LiKKAK* 

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REMINISCENCES  OF 
GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE 


Reminiscences  of 
General  Basil  W.  Duke,C.S.  A 


Author  of  "Morgan's  Cavalry'1  and 
"History  of  the  Bank  of  Kentucky" 


GARDEN  CITY       NEW  YORK 
DOUBLED  AY,  PAGE  &  COMPANY 
1911 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFOB&XAi 
DAVIS 


ALL  HOSTS  RESIRVZD,  INCLUDING  THAT  Of  TRANSLATION 
WTO  FOREIGN  LANGUAGES,  INCLUDING  THE  SCANDINAVIAN 

COPYRIGHT,  igil,  BY  DOUBLEDAY,  PAGF  tt  COMPANY 


COPYRIGHT  1905,   IQ06,   1907,   tQ08,   1909,  BY 
HOME  AND  FARM  PUBLICATION  COMPANY 


To  the  memory  of  my  beloved  wife 
HENRIETTA  MORGAN  DUKE 
this  volume  is  affectionately  dedicated 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  I 

The  political  and  social  conditions  existing  in  both  sections  which  in 
duced  Civil  Strife  —  The  militant  character  of  the  American  people 
which  made  compromise  impossible  —  The  various  manifestations 
of  this  feeling  and  its  many  phases  —  The  filibustering  expeditions 
—  The  American  volunteer,  his  aptitude  for  military  service  and  the 
readiness  with  which  he  acquires  the  instruction  and  habits  of  a  soldier.  3 

CHAPTER  II 

The  Bluegrass  region  of  Kentucky  —  Its  topography  and  the 
character  of  the  soil  —  Its  ante-bellum  social  life  —  The  old-fashioned 
barbecue  shooting  match  —  The  breeding  of  the  thoroughbred 
and  love  of  the  race-horse  —  The  recollections  of  early  youth  still 
haunting  old  age 19 

CHAPTER  III 

Outbreak  of  the  Civil  War  —  Political  sentiment  in  Missouri  — 
Struggle  for  control  —  Blair  and  his  Wide-Awakes  —  Organization 
of  the  Minute  Men  —  Raising  the  Southern  flag  —  Lyon  —  Governor 
Jackson  requests  President  Davis  to  furnish  arms  for  capture  of  St. 
Louis  arsenal  —  I  am  sent  on  this  secret  mission  —  The  Swan  carries 
arms  from  New  Orleans  to  St.  Louis  —  Vigilance  committee  thinks  me  a 
Federal  spy  —  Am  threatened  with  hanging  —  The  Swan  safely 
reaches  St.  Louis  and  arms  successfully  distributed  —  Capture  of 
General  Frost's  command  by  Lyon  —  Alarm  at  Jefferson  City  —  Burn 
ing  of  bridges  —  Preparations  made  to  resist  attack  —  I  am  informed 
that  I  have  been  indicted  by  the  Federal  Grand  Jury  —  Armistice  con 
cluded  between  Generals  Price  and  Harney  —  I  go  to  Kentucky  to  be 
married  —  Return  to  Missouri  but  take  sendee  with  General  Hardee's 
forces  at  Pocahontas,  Ark.  —  The  Shamrock  Guards  —  Receive  my  first 
lessons  in  scouting  —  General  Hardee  is  ordered  to  Kentucky  and  I  go 
there  also  —  Attempt  to  reach  Lexington  to  see  my  wife,  but  am  inter 
cepted  —  Stampede  at  Elizabethtown  —  I  escape  capture  by  the 
generous  aid  of  a  Federal  colonel,  afterward  an  associate  justice 
of  the  Supreme  Court. 32 

CHAPTER  IV 

Gen.  M.  Jeff  Thompson,  of  Missouri  —  I  visit  his  camp  to 
obtain  recruits  from  his  brigade  of  Missouri  State  Guards  for  the  Con 
federate  service  —  A  brief  conversation  with  him  induces  me  to  leave 

vii 


viii  CONTENTS 

without  an  effort  to  recruit  —  His  headquarters  at  Memphis  and  his 
canoe  fleet  —  A  review  of  his  brigade  by  some  English  officers  and 
the  sequel — "Camp  Boone"  visited  by  a  commissioner  sent  from 
Hopkinsville,  Ky.  —  What  he  didn't  tell  those  who  sent  him,  when  he 
returned  —  The  relations  which  existed  between  Morgan's  men  and  Wol- 
ford's  —  How  Major  Coffee  observed  his  parole,  and  how  it  resulted  in  a 
visit  to  Richmond  —  The  extraordinary  gift  of  speech  of  "Captain 
Sam" — How  it  gained  him  victory  in  political  discussion  and  caused 
other  wagon  trains  to  give  his  the  right  of  way  —  He  comes  to  grief 
before  a  court  martial  —  How  soldiers  liked  strong  drink  and  how  cav 
alrymen  procured  it  —  How  I  got  into  trouble  by  tiying  to  prevent 
them '  '.'.  79 

CHAPTER  V 

Gen.  Albert  Sidney  Johnston  —  His  early  service  in  the  United 
States  Army  —  Resigns  and  goes  to  Texas  at  the  date  of  the  Texan 
struggle  for  independence — Is  appointed  Commander  of  the  Texan 
Army  —  Duel  with  Gen.  Felix  Houston  —  Service  in  the  struggle 

—  Life  in  Texas  —  Reenters  the  United  States  Army  —  Service  in  the 
Mexican  War  —  Commands  the  expedition   sent  to  Utah  when  the 
Mormons  threaten  revolt  —  His  exalted   character  —  Instances  of  his 
influence  and  control  over  all  who  approached  him  —  His  conduct  and 
death  at  Shiloh , 100 

CHAPTER  VI 

Irregular  warfare  and  its  usually  relentless  ferocity  —  Guerillas 
and  bushwhackers  —  Champe'  Ferguson  and  "Tinker"  Dave  Beattie 

—  Morgan's  use  of  the  telegraph  in  war  —  Ellsworth,  his  success  as  an 
operator  —  How  he  ran  a  foot   race  with  a  jockey   "up" — "Parson" 
Wynne,  who  condemned  "horse  pressing"  but  thought  a  "compulsory" 
trade  sometimes  excusable  —  Profanity;  how  General  de  Polignac  ex 
pressed   his  inability  to    understand  camp    slang,   and   how  another 
Frenchman   expressed   his   admiration   of    Forrest  —  Major    John    S. 
Throckmorton,  of  Kentucky. 120 

CHAPTER  VII 

Gen.  Roger  W.  Hanson  —  His  service  in  Mexico  with  Gen.  John 
S.  Williams,  and  how  the  record  subsequently  figured  in  a  political 
canvass  —  His  service  in  the  Confederate  Army  and  death  at  the  Battle 
of  Murfreesboro  —  Gen.  Humphrey  Marshall,  his  ability  and  eccen 
tricities  —  How  Mr.  Davis  utilized  one  of  his  infirmities  —  George  W. 
Johnson,  first  Provisional  Governor  of  Kentucky  during  the  Civil  War  — 
His  heroic  death  at  Shiloh  —  Col.  George  St.  Leger  Grenfell  — 
His  early  life  as  a  soldier  of  fortune  —  Subsequent  service  in  the  English 
Army  —  Service  with  Morgan  —  Takes  part  in  effort  to  release  Confeder 
ate  prisoners  at  Chicago  —  Is  arrested,  tried  and  convicted,  and  drowned 
in  an  attempt  to  escape  from  the  Dry  Tortugas  —  Col.  J.  Stoddard 
Johnston  —  His  gallant  and  efficient  service  —  He  issues  proclamations 
in  Kentucky  and,  fleeing  from  arrest,  mistakes  friends  for  Yankees  ....  138 


CONTENTS  ix 


CHAPTER  VIII 

The  Videttc,  a  periodical  which  appeared  between  "raids" — 
Sport  in  the  army,  horse  racing,  cock  fighting  and  cards  —  a  Gander- 
pulling  at  Christmas  —  Mumble-peg  under  fire  —  The  Civil  War  in 
Shelbyville  —  Captain  Armstrong's  company  and  Captain  Armstrong's 
uniform  —  A  new  way  to  repel  cavalry  —  The  effect  of  Captain  Arm 
strong's  uniform  on  his  own  men  —  An  optical  illusion,  I  mistake  a 
boy  on  a  pony  for  a  warrior  on  a  charger  —  A  camp  under  snow 160 

CHAPTER  IX 

Gen.  John  C.  Breckinridge  —  His  military  service  and  capacity 
—  Conduct  at  Shiloh,  Chickamauga,  and  with  the  Army  of  Northern 
Virginia  —  Conduct  in  independent  command  —  Battle  of  Baton 
Rouge  —  Battle  of  New  Market  —  Defence  of  the  Department  of 
South-western  Virginia  —  Battle  of  Saltville  —  Drives  the  enemy  out 
of  Bull's  Gap  and  routs  him  —  Combat  at  Marion  —  Is  appointed 
Secretary  of  War '. •  •  176 

CHAPTER  X 

Gen.  William  Preston  —  His  ante-bellum  career  as  member  of 
Congress  and  minister  to  Mexico  —  Part  taken  in  the  political  agita 
tion  of  1861  —  Enters  the  Confederate  Army  —  Serves  on  Albert  Sid 
ney  Johnston's  staff  at  Shiloh  —  Promoted  to  brigadier  and  then  to 
major  general  —  Splendid  conduct  at  Murf reesboro  and  Chickamauga  — 
Appointed  minister  to  Mexico  —  Meeting  with  the  bandit  chief  Cor- 
tinas  —  Life  in  Kentucky  after  the  war , 195 

CHAPTER  XI 

The  negro  in  the  South  before  and  during  the  war  —  Slavery  in 
its  economic  and  political  aspects  —  General  treatment  of  the  negroes, 
and  relations  between  master  and  slave  —  Character  of  the  negro  and 
plantation  life  —  Hog-killing  times  and  Christmas  —  Negro  humour, 
his  superstition,  "spirits  and  witches" — The  "Old  Mammy,"  and  the 
coloured  "Boss"  —  Effect  upon  the  negro  of  enlistment  in  the  army  and 
emancipation. 223 

CHAPTER  XII 

Superstition  and  lack  of  superstition  among  the  soldiers  of  the  Civil 
War  —  A  certain  belief  in  "luck,"  in  omens  and  presentiments  —  In 
cidents  of  warfare  which  do  not  go  into  history  —  Tragedy  harsher  than 
battle,  courts  martial,  and  executions  —  An  ideal  encampment  and 
a  sudden  summons  to  leave  it 243 

CHAPTER  XIII 

Southern  hospitality  during  the  war  —  Depreciation  of  Confederate 
money  —  High  prices  and  small  returns  —  A  big  game  of  poker  —  How 


x  CONTENTS 

a  Tennessee  cavalryman  "belted"  the  wrong  horse  —  Major  "Dick" 
McCann;  his  adventures  and  eccentricities 258 

CHAPTER  XIV 

An  examination  of  the  muster  rolls  recalls  many  memories  —  How 
"Tom"  Boss  took  charge  of  a  steamboat  pilot  —  How  the  volunteer 
soldier  sometimes  managed  to  "get  away"  with  his  officers  —  The  de 
batable  ground  —  How  an  honest  farmer  found  it  impossible  to  distin 
guish  between  Yankees  and  rebels  and  was  fleeced  by  both  —  How 
"Bob"  McWilliams  acquired  several  bouquets  and  a  good  pair  of 
breeches  —  That  malarial  and  melancholy  ditty,  "Lprena"  —  The  ques 
tion  of  horseflesh  —  The  practical  manner  in  which  a  pedigree  was 
disproven  —  General  Morgan's  favourite  steeds,  "Black  Bess"  and  the 
"  Bay  Glencoe "—  The  Confederate  epic,  "  I  Lay  Ten  Dollars  Down."  .  .  272 

CHAPTER  XV 

General  Braxton  Bragg  —  His  conduct  at  Shiloh  —  His  campaign  in 
Kentucky  in  1862  —  The  possibilities  of  that  campaign  —  Its  admirable 
conception,  feeble  execution,  and  ultimate  failure  —  Unusually  favourable 
strategic  opportunities  neglected  —  Failure  to  concentrate  and  fight  be 
tween  Green  River  and  Louisville  permits  Buell  to  march  to  Louisville 
unmolested  —  Failure  to  concentrate  at  Perryville  —  Battle  of  Perry- 
ville  —  Declines  battle  at  Harrodsburg  and  retreats  from  Kentucky 

—  Battle  of  Murfreesboro  —  Operations  preceding  Battle  of  Chicka- 
mauga  —  Chickamauga,  Chattanooga,  and  Missionary  Ridge  —  Resigns 
command  of  the  Army  of  Tennessee  —  Is  made  inspector  general  of 

the  Confederacy 297 

CHAPTER  XVI 

Jefferson  Davis,  President  of  the  Confederacy  —  His  character 
and  conduct  the  subjects  of  much  misconception  by  friends  and  foes  alike 

—  One   whom    history   will   vindicate  —  Lieutenant   General    Nathan 
Bedford  Forrest  —  His  post-bellum  life  —  Quells  a  bully  —  Affair  with 
General  Kilpatrick  —  The   hope  of   universal  peace  —  Arbitration  or 
preparation 339 

CHAPTER  XVII 

Prison  life  —  Devices  employed  by  the  captives  to  alleviate  the 
woes  of  bondage  —  I  am  taken  from  the  Ohio  Penitentiary  by  a  Federal 
officer,  whose  kindness  to  me  gets  him  into  some  trouble  —  Fifty  of  us 
are  sent  from  Fort  Delaware  to  be  placed  under  fire  of  Confederate  bat 
teries  at  Charleston  —  We  remain  three  weeks  on  the  brig  Dragoon 
under  the  guns  of  the  frigate  Wabash  —  Fishing  for  sharks  and  dis 
cussing  exchange  —  Exchange  at  last  —  Hospitably  entertained  at 
Charleston  —  When  the  bombardment  is  renewed,  I  am  badly  scared 
by  our  own  guns  —  Rejoin  my  wife  and  little  ones 361 


CONTENTS  xi 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

Consternation  caused  by  news  of  Gen.  Lee's  surrender  —  Con 
federate  troops  in  South-western  Virginia  seek  to  join  Gen.  Joseph  E. 
Johnston  in  North  Carolina  —  We  march  through  the  mountain  passes 
: —  Skirmishing  on  mule-back  —  Five  Confederate  cavalry  brigades 
escort  Mr.  Davis  and  his  cabinet  from  Charlotte,  N.  C.,  to  Washington, 
Ga.  —  Gen.  Breckinridge,  as  Secretary  of  War  commands  escort  — 
At  Abbeville,  Mr.  Davis  holds  a  council  composed  of  the  commanders 
of  the  five  brigades  —  I  am  put  in  charge  of  the  treasure  brought  from 
Richmond;  it  occasions  me  much  care  and  concern!  —  Part  of  it  is  paid 
to  the  troops;  I  turn  over  the  residue  to  the  acting  treasurer  of  the 
Confederacy  and  hear  a  touching  homily  on  the  evils  wrought  by  gold — 
At  Washington,  Ga.,  Mr.  Davis  leaves  us,  ostensibly  to  escape — 
Final  surrender  and  general  parole  —  Experience  of  Confederate  soldiers 
after  surrender  —  How  they  made  their  way  to  their  homes  —  My  own 
experience  in  that  regard 380 

CHAPTER  XIX 

Social  and  political  changes  effected  in  the  South  by  the  war  — 
Material  damage  wrought  —  Effect  of  emancipation  upon  the  negro  — 
Influences  which  induced  unrest  and  agitation;  lack  of  regular  judicial 
administration;  political  graft;  the  Carpet-bagger  and  the  Scallawag 
—  Reconstruction  —  The  Union  League  and  the  Ku-Klux  Klan  — 
Political  conditions  in  Kentucky  at  the  close  of  the  war  —  Attitude  of 
the  Southern  whites  toward  the  negroes 400 


CHAPTER  XX 

Religious  sentiment  in  army  life  —  The  "Exaggerated  Ego";  some 
instances  of  it  —  A  Kentucky  apology  —  Some  giants  I  have  known  — 
"Baby  "  Bates  and  Fish  Cook  —  How  Cook  defeated  a  Bill  for  the  "better 
regulation  of  Shows  and  Circuses,"  requiring  them  to  have  their  per 
formances  comply  fully  with  advertisement,  but  thereby  accomplished 
his  own  political  ruin 416 

CHAPTER  XXI 

An  anecdote  of  Gen.  John  C.  Breckinridge's  early  political  career 
—  The  old  time  joint  political  discussion  —  One  in  which  several  dis 
tinguished  gentlemen  participated,  but  which  became  "personal"  and 
serious  consequences  were  threatened  —  The  erroneous  idea  formerly 
prevalent  in  both  the  North  and  the  South  that  the  people  of  the  two 
sections  were  utterly  unlike  —  Some  differences  induced  by  environ 
ment;  in  the  main  all  native-born  white  Americans  much  alike  —  The 
Southerner  in  fiction  little  like  the  Southerner  in  fact  —  Similarity 
between  the  Kentuckian  and  theTennesseean  —  A  question  of  "Civili 
zation"  which  might  have  produced  friction  —  An  orator  who  wouldn't 
be  called  to  order ....  436 


«i  CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  XXII 

The  years  between  the  Fall  of  the  Confederacy  anid  the  establish 
ment  of  the  New  Order  —  The  struggle  in  the  South  for  social  and 
material  reorganization  —  Talk  of  exodus  to  foreign  lands;  but  few  go 
away  and  nearly  all  go  to  work  —  The  women  of  the  South  and  the 
" Daughters  of  the  Confederacy" —  Cessation  of  duelling  in  the  South, 
and  how  it  was  discouraged  in  Kentucky  — The  last  affair  of  honour  in 
which  I  took  part — "Lawlessness"  in  the  South  only  a  manifestation 
of  the  same  spirit  prevailing  generally  in  the  whole  country  —  The  "Un 
reconstructed  Rebel" — Kentucky  politics  and  politicians  of  the  post- 
bellum  period  —  Unfortunate  prevalence  of  partisan  spirit 459 

CHAPTER  XXIII 

My  life  in  Louisville  —  The  kind  of  place  it  is,  and  why  I  like  it 
—  A  brief  sketch  of  its  past  history  and  some  guarded  remarks  about 
its  present  population  —  The  people  I  have  known  in  Louisville;  some 
famous  journalists,  lawyers,  judges,  physicians,  and  preachers,  and 
some  others  who  ought  to  have  been  famous  —  The  Filson  Club  and  the 
Salmagundi  Club  —  The  sort  of  philosophy  age  should  cultivate 489 


REMINISCENCES  OF 
GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE 


CHAPTER  I 

THE  reminiscences  contained  in  this  volume,  of  the  Civil 
War  and  the  period  just  preceding  it,  were,  most  of 
them,  written  for  the  Home  and  Farm,  of  Louisville, 
and  with  no  thought  at  first  of  their  publication  other  than  in 
that  paper.  They  are  compiled  and  published  in  more  per 
manent  form  in  deference  to  the  wishes  of  a  number  of  those 
who  read  them  when  they  originally  appeared. 

They  can  scarcely  be  regarded  as  positive  contributions  to 
the  history,  so  much  as  attempts  to  describe  incidents  character 
istic  of  the  period  and  its  potential  thought  and  feeling;  but  may 
help  to  illustrate  some  things  which  graver  historical  recital  will 
expound  when  the  time  has  come  to  construct  the  fabric  of 
history  with  the  material  provided  by  the  chroniclers.  In 
writing  them  I  had  chiefly  in  mind  the  experiences  of  the  soldier, 
the  atmosphere  of  the  camp,  the  gossip  of  the  bivouac. 

The  history  of  no  period  can  be  justly  written  —  certainly 
the  character  and  meaning  of  no  struggle  which  is  in  effect 
a  social  or  political  revolution  can  be  correctly  and  graphically 
portrayed  —  unless  the  conditions  of  the  times,  the  habits  of 
thought  then  prevailing,  and  the  predominant  sentiment  which 
influenced  or  incited  popular  action,  be  taken  into  account. 

To  no  important  and  striking  epoch  of  modern  history  is  this 
rule  of  historical  narration  more  applicable  than  to  our  great 
civil  conflict  —  "the  war  between  the  states."  For  the  treat 
ment  of  this  subject  an  abundance  of  the  material  ordinarily 
employed  in  historical  composition  has  already  been  supplied. 
The  "historical  facts"  have,  in  so  far  as  such  a  thing  is  possible, 
been  ascertained  and  agreed  on.  The  writers  on  both  sides 
of  the  controversy  have  been  industrious  in  proclaiming  all  that 
investigation  or  research  could  procure.  No  document  or  dec 
laration,  perhaps,  of  the  kind  usually  termed  historical,  has  been 
overlooked;  and  ingenious  use  has  been  made  of  the  results  so 
obtained,  in  support  of  each  contention. 


4  REMINISCENCES  OF 

The  record  has  been  so  often  quoted  that  the  average  reader 
may  be  excused  some  impatience  if  more  than  mere  reference 
to  it  be  attempted;  and  the  arguments,  pro  and  con,  have  become 
tedious  from  frequent  repetition.  We  are  familiar  with  all  that 
has  been  or  can  be  said  in  defence  of  the  effort  made  by  the 
South  for  separate  and  independent  governmental  existence,  and 
with  all  that  has  been  asserted  in  justification  of  the  action  taken 
by  the  North  to  maintain  the  integrity  of  the  Union.  We  know 
why  the  people  of  the  one  section  believed  secession  to  be  the 
unpardonable  political  sin;  and  why  the  people  of  the  other 
regarded  coercion  as  a  brutal  crime,  not  only  against  the  Ameri 
can  idea  that  all  governments  derive  their  just  powers  from  the 
consent  of  the  governed,  but  against  the  liberty  it  has  been  the 
chief  purpose  of  our  institutions  to  protect.  Every  "intelligent 
school-boy"  in  the  South  knows  that  the  Southern  people  held 
that  the  Federal  Constitution  and  the  "more  perfect  union" 
that  instrument  was  intended  to  construct  was  a  compact  formed 
between  sovereign,  equal,  and  independent  states,  and  were 
absolutely  convinced  that  the  parties  to  such  a  contract  had 
the  right,  for  any  reason  in  their  own  discretion  sufficient,  to 
withdraw  from  it.  Every  boy  in  the  North  who  has  read  a 
school  history  understands  that  the  men  who  fought  "to  pre 
serve  the  life  of  the  Nation"  believed  the  Union  was  not  only 
of  superior  sanctity  to  any  other  institution  of  human  creation, 
but  that  it  was  meant  to  be  indissoluble  and  perpetual.  The 
technical  contentions  and  data  on  which  they  are  founded  are  all 
on  file  for  the  use  of  the  future  historian;  nor  can  he,  nor  need 
he,  add  anything  to  either. 

Likewise,  every  cause  or  provocation  which  conduced  to 
incite  the  conflict  has  received  as  thorough  discussion  and  as 
equally  clear  exposition.  No  statement  now  made  could  pre 
sent  more  forcibly  than  has  been  done  the  chief  issue  of  the 
fierce  debate,  or  show  more  plainly  how  the  persistent  agitation 
of  the  question  of  slavery,  in  its  varied  phases,  inflamed  sec 
tional  passion  and  resentment,  and  suggested  to  the  disputants 
the  thought  that  it  could  be  settled  only  by  civil  war. 

No  amount  of  dissertation  could  make  us  understand  more 
distinctly  that  a  few  men  in  the  North  sought  the  abolition 
of  slavery,  at  any  cost,  for  the  sake  of  humanity;  that  others 


GENERAL  BASIL  W". DUKE  5 

thought  it  not  in  accord  with  the  spirit  of  the  age  and  an  economic 
mistake;  and  a  still  greater  number  objected  for  political  and 
commercial  reasons  to  its  introduction  into  territories  which 
would  soon  become  states. 

We  shall  never  comprehend  more  perfectly  the  irritation  with 
which  the  South  regarded  what  it  deemed  unjust  interference 
with  an  institution  in  which  immense  proprietary  interests  were 
involved;  and  which  was  recognized  and  guaranteed  protection 
by  every  muniment  that  had  given  the  Union  claim  to  respect, 
and  the  government  —  the  product  of  that  Union  —  title  to 
demand  allegiances.  We  know,  as  well  as  we  shall  ever  know, 
that  the  resentment  burned  hotter  because  the  Southern  people 
felt  that  they  were  not  responsible  for  the  existence  of  slavery, 
and  that  it  had  been  unloaded  on  them  by  the  communities 
whence  came  the  clamour  for  its  abolition. 

We  know  that  the  South  dreaded  with  reason,  as  subsequent 
experience  demonstrated,  the  effect  of  sudden  and  arbitrary 
emancipation,  and  believed  it  would  be  compelled,  by  an  over 
whelming  free-soil  majority,  if  the  slave-holding  states  remained 
in  the  Union. 

Both  sections  were  alarmed.  The  one  feared  an  unrestricted 
extension  of  slavery  into  the  public  domain;  the  other  feared  its 
abolition.  The  South  saw  safety  only  in  secession.  The  North 
believed  that,  with  the  dissolution  of  the  Union,  permanent 
peace  upon  this  continent  would  be  impossible.  There  was 
assuredly  an  intelligible  apprehension,  if  not  a  sufficient  casus 
belli,  on  both  sides. 

Nevertheless,  it  will  always  be  more  or  less  a  matter  of  wonder 
that,  serious  as  was  the  dispute,  it  could  not  have  been  adjusted 
without  resort  to  arms.  At  this  date,  and  to  the  generation 
born  since  the  close  of  the  war,  it  is  doubtless  incomprehensible 
that  a  people  descended  from  the  same  ancestry;  speaking  the 
same  language;  inheriting  the  same  patriotic  traditions;  enter 
taining,  in  the  main,  identical  ideas  regarding  the  purpose 
of  political  institutions  and  the  functions  of  government,  and 
cherishing  a  similar  hope  for  the  happiness  and  glory  of  the 
country  in  which  they  lived  —  should  have  obstinately  rejected 
compromise  and  insisted  upon  war.  Even  the  veteran  of  that 
war,  now  distant  from  the  influences  which  induced  it,  must 


6  REMINISCENCES  OF 

remember  with  some  bewilderment,  and  marvel  mildly,  at  least, 
when  he  recalls  the  irresistible  impulse  which  urged  him  into 
the  fight. 

The  population  of  the  United  States  is  to-day  nearly  thrice 
as  numerous  and  distinctly  less  homogeneous  than  it  was  in  1861. 
The  area  covered  by  the  states  which  now  compose  the  Union 
is  greater,  the  interests  represented  more  diversified  than  then. 
Consequently  it  might  be  thought  that  occasion  for  dangerous 
dispute  and  the  occurrence  of  internecine  altercation  is  more  to 
be  apprehended  now  than  at  that  date.  Happily,  no  sectional 
difference  —  the  most  potent  incentive  to  such  quarrel  —  exists, 
although  we  can  see  how  trouble  might  come  in  other  ways.  Yet 
no  man  fears  that  popular  discontent,  however  extensive;  political 
or  factional  dissension,  however  bitter;  or  even  the  most  extreme 
phase  of  social  reform  or  experiment  —  will  ever  receive  such 
general  and  formidable  expression.  There  may  be  frequent 
exhibitions  in  future  American  history  of  sporadic  revolt  and  par 
tial  insurrection,  but  it  is  not  at  all  probable  that  this  country  will 
again  witness  another  domestic  disturbance  of  like  magnitude. 

One  very  excellent  reason  why  more  caution  will  be  observed 
hereafter,  in  this  respect,  than  was  exercised  by  the  men  of  1861 
is  at  once  suggested.  The  experience  and  stern  teachings  of 
that  former  four  years  of  devastating  strife  will  long  linger  in 
the  national  memory  and  serve  as  wholesome  warning.  But, 
independently  of  this  consideration,  it  is  not  difficult  to  explain 
why  the  generation  by  which  that  war  was  waged  was  more 
willing  and  more  apt  for  such  ultimate  measures  than  any  sub 
sequent  generation  would  or  could  be. 

The  temper  of  the  people  at  that  date  and  their  racial  tradi 
tions  inclined  them  more  readily  to  such  action.  The  bulk 
of  the  white  population  was  still  of  British  ancestry.  The  Celtic 
and  Dutch  settlers  of  earliest  arrival  in  the  country  had  become 
commingled  and  closely  identified  with  that  element.  Each 
of  these  stocks  had  inherited  a  jealous  regard  for  personal  liberty 
and  popular  rights,  and  a  disposition  to  maintain  them. 

Moreover,  there  was  more  leisure  and  a  greater  inclination 
to  consider  such  matters  then  than  now;  and  questions  which 
were  topics  of  great  doubt  and  discussion  then  were  very  effect 
ually  determined  afterward  by  the  logic  of  the  sword. 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  7 

The  attention  of  men  at  that  time  was  not  directed  to  so  many 
subjects  as  the  crowded  conditions  of  to-day  make  necessary; 
but  those  which  were  considered  produced  a  profounder 
impression. 

It  should  be  taken  into  account  that  modern  commercialism, 
while  it  breeds  bickerings  in  smaller  affairs,  induces  a  conserva 
tive  feeling  in  respect  of  public  and  governmental  conduct. 
Popular  grievances  have  multiplied  with  the  increase  of  popula 
tion  and  the  vast  heterogeneous  immigration  of  the  past  thirty 
or  forty  years;  but  their  very  frequency  and  diversity  prevent 
any  large  class  or  number  of  people  from  enlisting  in  their  ad 
vocacy.  It  is  much  easier  to  inaugurate  a  strike  or  establish 
a  boycott  than  to  organize  the  extensive  and  determined  re 
sistance  which  would  amount  to  civil  war. 

More  than  anything  else,  however,  which  made  war  possible 
was  the  aggressive,  assertive  spirit  and  war-like  temper  char 
acteristic,  at  that  period,  of  the  people  of  the  whole  country. 
This  disposition  had  been  developed  and  cultivated  by  the  con 
ditions  of  previous  American  life  —  had  been  an  almost  habitual, 
feature  of  that  life  —  since  the  days  when  the  first  settlers  fought 
for  their  homes  with  the  savage.  It  had  become  instinctive, 
and  was  under  no  such  restraints,  when  the  sectional  contention 
culminated  in  hostilities,  as  are  now  felt. 

We  can  scarcely  conceive,  as  we  reason  and  feel  about  such 
matters  now,  that  any  provocation,  any  form  of  persuasion, 
could  "fire  the  Southern  heart"  or  reconcile  the  Northern  mind 
to  so  desperate  a  remedy.  But  those  who  knew  the  people  of 
fifty  years  ago,  when  these  questions  so  fraught  with  passion 
and  perplexity  were  urged,  can  understand  how  —  after  the 
failure  of  other  methods  —  the  solution  was  attempted  by  force. 

The  earliest  settlers  of  this  continent  were  taught,  as  I  have 
said,  to  consider  constant  warfare  the  normal  condition  of  Ameri 
can  life.  The  same  racial  education  and  habit  of  thought  con 
tinued  throughout  the  colonial  period,  and  were  intensified  by 
the  passionate  vicissitudes  of  the  Revolutionary  War.  The 
spirit  so  bred  remained  as  a  characteristic  trait  of  the  American 
people  until  the  Civil  War  finally  furnished  it  full  opportunity 
and  scope  for  exercise,  and,  it  is  to  be  hoped,  gave  it  also  in 
large  measure, -its  quietus. 


8  REMINISCENCES  OF 

The  English  armies  in  the  French  and  Indian  wars  waged 
previously  to  the  separation  of  the  colonies  from  Great  Britain 
consisted  more  largely  of  colonial  contingents  —  "provincial 
militia"  —  than  of  British  regular  troops:  and  the  alacrity  with 
which  these  unprofessional,  but  by  no  means  unskilled  or  in 
efficient,  fighters  responded  to  every  call  made  on  them  evinced 
their  love  of  warfare  quite  as  thoroughly  as  their  conduct  in 
the  field  demonstrated  their  aptitude  for  it.  Taught  from  their 
boyhood  indifference  to  danger,  habituated  to  combat,  inured 
to  hardships  and  fatigue,  and  enjoying  the  excitement  of  the 
campaign  and  battle  very  much  as  they  did  that  of  the  chase, 
little  training  was  needed  to  make  them  soldiers.  So  it  was  that 
in  Braddock's  disastrous  defeat,  after  his  regulars  were  almost 
destroyed,  the  American  riflemen  saved  the  remnant  of  his  army. 
In  all  of  the  greater  battles  fought  with  the  Indians,  when  the 
latter,  under  French  tuition  and  suggestion,  had  learned  how  to 
coalesce  and  join  forces,  the  colonial  militia  did  the  fighting. 

Nearly  every  colonist  of  military  age  served  in  the  "rangers," 
the  volunteer  force  which  guarded  the  frontiers  against  Indian 
incursions.  The  term  survived  to  be  applied  to  the  daring  riders 
who  on  the  Texas  border  drove  back  Mexican  banditti  and 
met  the  raids  of  the  Lipan  and  Comanche.  Some  of  the  most 
picturesque  figures  among  the  heroes  of  the  Revolution  were 
conspicuous  as  officers  in  this  body  before  winning  later  and 
wider  fame:  notably  Putnam,  Stark,  and  Ethan  Allen;  and 
Marion,  Sumter,  and  others  who  won  subsequent  distinction  and 
performed  similar  service  in  the  South. 

The  troops  enlisted  in  the  continental  line  proved  equal  — 
even  in  the  use  of  the  bayonet  —  on  more  than  one  occasion  — 
to  the  best  of  the  English  infantry  regiments.  "Light  Horse 
Harry"  Lee  and  Col.  William  Washington  organized  a  cavalry 
which  held  its  own  with  the  famous  legion  of  Tarleton. 

But  it  was  by  the  irregulars  that  the  war-like  temper 
of  the  American  was  best  illustrated  in  the  war  for 
American  independence.  It  is  not  too  much  to  say  that,  not 
withstanding  ar;  occasional  panic  to  which  undisciplined  troops 
are  always  subject,  the  greater  number  of  decisive  successes 
was  achieved  by  them.  The  victory  of  King's  Mountain,  which 
many  historians  consider  as,  more  than  any  other,  the  pivotal 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  9 

event  of  the  war,  was  won  by  the  frontier  backwoods  riflemen 
under  the  leadership  of  Shelby,  Campbell,  and  Sevier.  In  this 
battle,  men  who  had  no  previous  military  training  in  the  ordinary 
acceptation  of  the  term,  and  officered  by  captains  untaught  save 
by  experience  in  Indian  warfare,  defeated  and  well-nigh  anni 
hilated  a  picked  body  of  British  regulars.* 

The  settlement  of  Kentucky  and  Tennessee,  accomplished 
only  after  years  of  dire  and  incessant  contest  with  the  savage 
tribes  from  whom  the  white  man  wrested  those  fertile  regions; 
the  acquisition  of  the  great  Northwestern  territory  and  its  sub 
sequent  settlement;  and  that  of  Alabama  and  Mississippi  —  all 
done  at  the  cost  of  hard  fighting  and  lavish  bloodshed  —  yet 
further  accustomed  this  martial  population  to  appeal  to  force 
and  arms  as  the  first  as  well  as  last  resort.  More  than  that, 
these  constant  territorial  accessions  and  the  elation  born  of  suc 
cess  taught  the  habit  of  conquest  and  an  adventurous  spirit 
which  thought  everything  possible  to  daring  and  effort. 

As  each  successive  generation  came  on  the  stage  it  received 
its  lesson,  and  fresh  stimulus  was  given  this  appetite  for  war. 
When  the  American  settlers  in  Texas,  aided  by  their  sympathetic 
countrymen,  who  eagerly  embraced  the  inviting  opportunity, 
had  thrown  off  the  Mexican  yoke,  and  after  the  consequent  war 
with  Mexico,  this  feeling,  perhaps,  reached  its  acme;  but  there 
was  no  diminution  of  it  as  late  as  1861. 

The  disposition  to  acquire  territory,  inherited  from  his  Anglo- 
Saxon  ancestor  —  than  whom,  since  the  Roman,  the  w©rld  has 
seen  no  more  inveterate  " land-grabber"  -  enhanced  the  Ameri 
can's  love  of  combat,  or,  rather,  became  identified  with  it;  because 
in  almost  every  case  of  such  acquisition  he  had  to  fight  for  what 
he  got.  I  thkik  that  this  combative  feeling  entered  into  his 

*The  term  "  militia"  is  used  so  loosely  and  applied  so  indifferently  to  troops  serving  under  dissimilar 
conditions  and  often  altogether  unequal  in  respect  of  equipment,  training,  and  consequent  efficiency,  that  it 
has  become  confusing.  The  efficiency  of  a  militia  depends  in  no  slight  degree  upon  the  readiness  with  which 
it  may  be  summoned  and  the  period  tor  which  it  may  be  kept  in  the  field.  A  militia  which  is  or  can  be  called 
into  service  infrequently  and  only  for  a  few  weeks,  and  receives  no  instruction  in  the  interim,  will  necessarily 
be  less  efficient  than  one  of  which  longer,  more  frequent  and  more  arduous  service  is  demanded.  It  is  cer 
tainly  an  egregious  error  to  confound  the  American  militia  man,  as  some  European  writers  constantly  do, 
with  the  American  volunteer  soldier  enlisted  for  "  three  years,  or  the  war." 

The  immediate  moral  effect  upon  the  man,  of  enlistment  for  a  definite  term  and  the  realization  that  he 
must  serve  during  that  period,  is  of  itself  considerable. 

The  meaning  of  Washington's  oft-quoted  criticism  of  the  militia  is  frequently  misunderstood.  He  had  in 
mind  the  colonial  militia  whose  members  were  bound  to  no  definite  term  of  service,  under  little  obligation  to 
serve  at  all,  and  were  always  returned  to  their  ordinary  avocations  after  very  brief  service.  While  such 
troops  might  at  times  fight  well,  little  dependence  could,  of  course,  be  placed  \n  them  for  the  purposes  of  a 
protracted  campaign.  On  the  other  hand  the  regiments  of  the  continental  line  on  which  he  so  thoroughly 
relied,  and  which  he  termed  "  regulars,"  were  the  exact  equivalent  of  the  volunteers  of  the  Civil  War. 


io  REMINISCENCES  OF 

every  idea  of  public  duty.  Patriotism  and  pugnacity  became, 
in  popular  estimation,  synonymous  virtues.  A  man  was  not 
thought  to  love  his  country  or  to  take  a  proper  interest  in  the 
welfare  of  his  immediate  community  if  he  was  not  willing,  indeed 
anxious,  to  fight  in  any  quarrel  in  which  either  might  be  involved. 

Whenever  an  international  misunderstanding  occurred,  or 
sectional  debate  grew  bitter,  statesmen  and  orators  came  for 
ward  with  militant  suggestions,  certain,  to  receive  abundant 
popular  endorsement.  Every  striking  phrase  which  voiced 
such  sentiment,  whether  directed  against  opponents  abroad 
or  at  home  —  "Fifty-four  forty,  or  fight,"  in  a  dispute  about  a 
boundary;  "Tear  down  the  flaunting  lie,"  if  the  issue  was  domes 
tic —  became  a -motto  and  slogan  for  thousands.  When  a 
people  are  in  that  temper  they  are  ripe  for  strife. 

But  the  most  remarkable  expression  of  this  spirit  of  adventure 
and  combativeness  was  that  furnished  by  the  "filibustering" 
expeditions  undertaken  between  the  years  1849  and  1860.  These 
expeditions  were  in  no  sense  piratical  or  purely  for  plunder,  as 
many  people  have  supposed,  although  ultimate  profit  in  the 
shape  of  allotment  of  lands  and  lucrative  employment  was, 
doubtless,  expected  by  many  who  enlisted  in  them.  That  they 
were  per  se  lawless,  in  the  strictest  construction  of  public  policy 
and  canon,  goes  without  saying.  But  they  were  in  accord  with 
the  spirit  of  the  times,  in  America  at  least,  and  certainly  intended 
to  establish  a  better  social  and  governmental  condition  than 
they  assailed.  As  has  been  said  especially  of  the  three  expedi 
tions  made  by  Narciso  Lopez  in  the  effort  to  free  Cuba,  they 
"were  movements  in  the  interest  of  humanity.  They  were 
not  for  plunder  and  spoils,  but  for  the  freedom  of  human  beings 
from  the  galling  yoke  of  tyranny." 

Col.  R.  T.  Durrett,  in  his  introduction  to  the  exceedingly 
interesting  contribution  to  the  Filson  Club  publications  entitled 
"Lopez's  Expeditions  to  Cuba,"  written  by  Mr.  A.  C.  Quisen- 
berry,  claims  that  these  expeditions  were  by  no  means  excep 
tional  or  sui  generis,  and  names  Cortez,  Miranda,  Aaron  Burr, 
and  Gen.  Sam  Houston  as  having  been,  before  the  date  of  which 
I  write,  "the  four  principal  filibusters  in  the  Western  world. 
Two  were  successful  and  two  were  failures." 

Of  the  latter  attempts  of  this  nature,  the  principal,  indeed 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  11 

the  only,  ones  worthy  of  record  were  those  of  Lopez  and  those 
subsequently  undertaken  by  Gen.  William  Walker,  "the  gray- 
eyed  man  of  destiny"  and  most  eccentric  and  "all-around" 
soldier  of  fortune. 

Walker  made  an  expedition  into  Lower  California  in  October, 
I^53,  "annexed"  Sonora  —  by  proclamation  —  and  was  cap 
tured  at  San  Diego.  He  went  to  Nicaragua  in  June,  1855,  won 
and  occupied  a  considerable  part  of  that  country,  made  war,  as 
a  Nicaraguan  executive  and  "patriot,"  with  Costa  Rica,  and 
executed  a  native  general  for  "treason."  He. was  elected  Presi 
dent,  and  his  government  was  recognized  by  President  Pierce; 
but  unfortunately  he  clashed  with  the  on-coming  "commercial 
ism"  of  the  near  future.  Confiscating  some  of  the  property 
of  the  Vanderbilt  Steamship  Company,  in  his  need  of  revenue, 
that  soulless  corporation  turned  against  him,  and  a  United 
States  naval  officer  arrested  and  bore  him  "in  exile"  from  his 
adopted  land.  Nevertheless,  in  1860,  he  made  an  expedition 
to  Honduras,  and  was  captured  and  shot  by  the  native  authori 
ties  at  Truxillo. 

The  young  men  recruited  in  the  United  States  for  these  ex 
peditions  were,  as  a  rule,  of  good  birth,  good  education,  and 
unimpeachable  honour  and  integrity.  They  were  urged,  per 
haps,  by  some  surviving  impulse  derived  from  the  old  Scan 
dinavian  strain  —  the  same  Viking  instinct  which  impelled 
Raleigh,  Drake,  and  Hawkins,  and  which  to-day  seduces  the 
Briton,  so  "respectable"  when  at  home,  into  amateur  inter 
ference  with  quarrels  in  which  he  has  no  conceivable  interest, 
and  causes  him  to  "pot"  people  who  never  did  him  or  his  for 
bears  the  least  injury. 

An  incident  of  the  third  and  last  expedition  of  Lopez  —  the 
"Bahia  Honda"  expedition,  as  it  was  termed  —  excited  at  the 
time  intense  feeling  throughout  the  United  States,  and  will, 
perhaps,  never  be  forgotten  in  Kentucky.  No  story  in  American 
annals  possesses  a  more  pathetic  and  heroic  interest.  The  second, 
or  "Cardenas,"  expedition  had  been  partially  successful,  and 
Lopez  was  encouraged  to  attempt  another  in  the  following  year, 
1851.  In  August  of  that  year  he  disembarked  a  force  of  four 
hundred  and  fifty-three  men  at  the  village  of  Morillas,  in  Bahia 
Honda  harbour,  seventy  miles  from  Havana.  He  expected  a 


12  REMINISCENCES  OF 

larger  body  of  troops,  which  he  had  recruited  principally  in 
Kentucky,  to  follow  and  reinforce  him.  Before  transportation 
could  be  furnished  them,  however,  the  expedition  had  ended  in 
disaster,  and  Lopez  himself  had  died  on  the  scaffold. 

Among  the  officers  who  accompanied  Lopez  on  the  Pampero 
-  the  steamer  which  bore  the  ill-fated  expedition  —  was  Col. 
William  Logan  Crittenden,  a  young  Kentuckian  and  graduate 
of  West  Point,  who  had  served  gallantly  in  the  Mexican  War 
and  had  resigned  his  commission  in  the  Army  of  the  United 
States  that  he  might  devote  his  best  efforts  to  the  cause  of  the 
oppressed  people  of  Cuba.  He  was  the  great-grandson  of  Ben 
jamin  Logan  —  with  the  exception  of  Boone  only,  the  most 
famous  and  the  ablest  of  the  Kentucky  pioneers.  He  was  a 
grandson  of  Col.  John  Allen,  who  commanded  a  regiment  of 
Kentuckians  and  was  killed  in  the  battle  of  the  River  Raisin; 
and  was  a  nephew  of  John  J.  Crittenden,  so  long  the  worthy 
colleague  and  peer  of  Henry  Clay  in  the  Senate.  Young  Crit 
tenden  was  noted,  even  in  that  day  of  reckless  daring,  for  un 
daunted  courage,  but  his  amiable  disposition  and  attractive 
manner  had  won  him  greater  favour.  There  can  be  no  doubt 
that  he  was  animated  solely  by  love  of  liberty  and  hatred  of 
oppression.  .  ? 

The  Pampero  was  sighted  from  Havana,  and  a  Spanish  war 
ship,  Pizarro,  immediately  went  in  pursuit  of  her.  The  Pampero 
ran  upon  a  reef  in  Bahia  Honda  harbour,  and  it  was  with  great 
difficulty  that  the  troops  could  be  landed.  The  first  boats  which 
approached  shore  were  fired  upon  by  the  Creoles,  from  whom 
Lopez  had  expected  welcome  and  support.  Lopez  pressed  on 
a  short  distance  into  the  interior,  leaving  Crittenden  with  a 
small  detachment  at  Murillos  to  guard  the  stores.  Eight  hundred 
Spanish  troops  were  landed  from  the  Pizarro,  which  followed  and 
defeated  Lopez.  Crittenden  embarked  with  his  party  in  four 
small  fishing  boats,  hoping  to  make  his  way  to  Key  West  or 
Yucatan.  He  was  overtaken  by  the  Spanish  steamer  Habanero 
and  surrendered  to  the  officer  commanding  her  on  condition 
that  the  lives  of  himself  and  men  should  be  spared  and  that  they 
should  be  treated  as  prisoners  of  war.  The  captain  general 
of  Cuba,  when  the  prisoners  were  brought  to  Havana,  refused 
to  recognize  the  terms  upon  which  they  had  surrendered  and 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  13 

ordered  them  to  be  instantly  tried  by  a  drumhead  court-martial. 
They  were  all  —  Crittenden  and  his  fifty  comrades  —  sentenced 
to  be  shot.  The  execution  of  the  sentence  was  delayed  for  thirty 
minutes  that  they  might  write  to  their  friends.  The  following 
letter  was  written  by  Crittenden  to  Dr.  Lucien  Henseley,  of 
Frankfort,  Ky.: 

Ship  of  War  Esperanza,  Aug.  16,  1851. 

DEAR  LUCIEN:  In  half  an  hour  I,  with  fifty  others,  am  to  be  shot.  We 
were  in  small  boats.  General  Lopez  separated  the  balance  of  the  command 
from  me.  I  had  with  me  about  100.  Was  attacked  by  two  battalion 
infantry  and  one  company  of  horse.  The  odds  were  too  great,  and,  strange 
to  tell,  I  was  not  furnished  with  one  single  musket  cartridge.  Lopez  did  not 
get  any  artillery.  I  have  not  the  heart  to  write  any  of  my  family.  If  the 
truth  ever  comes  out,  you  will  find  that  I  did  my  duty  and  have  the  confidence 
of  every  man  with  me.  We  had  retired  from  the  field  and  were  going  to  the 
sea  and  were  overtaken  by  the  Spanish  steamer  Habanero  and  captured. 
Tell  General  Houston  that  his  nephew  got  separated  from  me  on  the  thir 
teenth  day  of  the  fight  and  I  have  not  seen  him  since.  He  may  have  strag 
gled  off  and  joined  Lopez,  who  advanced  rapidly  into  the  interior.  My 
people,  however,  were  entirely  surrounded  on  every  side.  We  saw  that 
we  had  been  deceived  grossly  and  were  making  for  the  United  States  when 
taken.  During  my  short  sojourn  in  this  island  I  have  not  met  a  single  patriot. 
We  landed  some  forty  or  fifty  miles  to  the  westward  of  this,  and  I  am  sure 
that  in  that  part  of  the  island  Lopez  has  no  friends.  When  I  was  attacked 
Lopez  was  only  three  miles  off.  If  he  had  not  been  deceiving  us  as  to  the 
state  of  things  he  would  have  fallen  back  with  his  forces  and  made  fight. 

I  am  requested  to  get  you  to  tell  Mr.  Green  of  the  custom-house  that 
his  brother  shares  my  fate.  Victor  Ker  is  also  with  me;  so  also  Stanford. 
I  recollect  no  other  of  your  acquaintance  present.  I  will  die  like  a  man. 
My  heart  has  not  failed  me  yet,  nor  do  I  believe  it  will.  Communicate  with 
my  family.  Tell  my  friend  on  Philippa  Street  that  I  had  better  have  been 
persuaded  to  stay;  that  I  have  not  forgotten  him  and  will  not  in  the  moment 
of  death.  This  is  an  incoherent  letter,  but  the  circumstances  must  excuse 
me.  My  hands  are  swollen  to  double  their  thickness,  resulting  from  having 
been  too  tightly  corded  for  the  last  eighteen  hours.  Write  to  Whistlar; 
let  him  write  to  my  mother.  I  am  afraid  that  the  news  will  break  her  heart. 
My  heart  beats  warmly  toward  her  now.  Farewell.  My  love  to  all  my  family. 
I  am  sorry  that  I  die  owing  a  cent,  but  it  is  inevitable.  Yours,  strong  in 
heart.  W.  L.  CRITTENDEN. 

When  the  half-hour  of  respite  had  expired  the  prisoners  were 

taken  to  Castle  Atares,  in  the  immediate  vicinity  of  Havana, 

and  were  shot  on  the  slope  of  the  hill  in  front  of  the  fortification. 

Crittenden  was  shot  first.     Mr.  Quisenberry  says: 

"One  of  the  rabble  pushed  through  the  line  of  soldiers  and 

rushed  up  to  Crittenden  and  pulled  his  beard.     The  gallant 

Kentuckian,  with  the  utmost  coolness,  spat  in  the  coward's  face. 


14  REMINISCENCES  OF 

He  refused  to  kneel  or  to  be  blindfolded,  saying  in  a  clear,  ring 
ing  voice:  *A  Kentuckian  kneels  to  none  except  his  God,  and 
always  dies  facing  his  enemy." 

The  wonderful  material  progress  of  the  past  fifty  years  has 
been  scarcely  so  remarkable  as  has  been  the  alteration  in  thought 
and  sentiment  along  the  lines  I  have  indicated.  We  are  now 
almost  as  far  removed,  in  this  regard,  from  the  immediate  ante 
bellum  generation  as  it  was  from  the  day  of  the  Spanish  con 
quistador  or  the  early  English  explorer. 

A  notable  trait  of  the  period  and  a  natural  result  of  this  racial  ex 
perience  was  the  sanguine, unlimited  self-reliance  of  the  American, 
especially  in  the  matter  of  what  he  could  do  in  war  and  battle. 

Those  who  are  old  enough  to  remember  the  immediate  ante 
bellum  period  may  recall  as  vividly  as  anything  which  char 
acterized  it,  the  confidence  with  which  both  sides  believed  that 
the  issue  of  the  conflict  would  be  in  accord  with  their  wishes. 

The  people  of  the  South,  especially  those  of  an  age  to  serve 
in  the  army,  affected  to  believe,  and  many  of  them  did  believe, 
that  "one. Southerner  could  whip  five  Yankees."  On  the  other 
hand,  while  the  faith  of  the  Yankee  in  his  individual  prowess 
and  invincibility  was  not  so  arrogant,  he  was  nevertheless  quite 
convinced  that  one  Yankee  would  be  able  to  give  a  good  account 
of  himself  in  a  fight  with  one  Southerner.  He  also  relied,  and, 
as  the  result  showed,  with  reason,  upon  the  superior  numbers 
the  North  could  put  into  the  field,  the  overwhelming  superior 
resources  of  the  national  government  and  its  ability  to  furnish 
all  the  means  necessary  to  prosecute  war  successfully. 

He  cherished  another  belief,  not  so  well  founded —  viz.,  that  the 
Southern  man,  although  a  daring  and  dashing  fighter,  lacked 
endurance  and  would  not  be  able  to  stand  the  strain  of  pro 
tracted  warfare  and  its  concomitant  toils  and  privations.  It  was 
abundantly  proven  that  this  idea  was  a  mistaken  one,  as  much  so 
as  the  whimsical  Southern  notion  that  the  Northern  man  lacked 
courage.  It  was  amply  demonstrated  that  fortitude  and  pluck, 
stamina  and  combativeness,  were  qualities  common  to  both. 

This  fact,  very  important  to  be  considered  then,  but  unfortu 
nately  not  sooner  realized,  and  never,  it  is!  to  be  hoped,  to 
be  forgotten,  was  first  discovered  at  the  battle  of  Shiloh  and 
the  military  operations  immediately  preceding  it;  but  was 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  i$ 

incoutestably  established  by  the  tremendous  efforts  subsequently- 
made,  and  the  fearful  decimation  suffered  by  the  combatants 
in  both  hosts,  in  many  an  arduous  campaign  and  on  innumerable 
stricken  fields,  ghastly  with  carnage.  i 

The  native-born  Americans  of  the  respective  armies  were  so 
nearly  akin  in  blood,  descended,  as  they  were,  from  practically 
the  same  racial  stocks,  that  there  could  be,  of  course,  little  dif 
ference  between  them  in  inherent  qualities;  although  immediate 
environment  and  social  training  might  produce  an  apparent 
dissimilarity.  In  respect  of  aptitude  for  military  service  —  that 
is  to  say,  when  they  first  entered  the  ranks  —  the  youth  of  the 
Southern,  Western,  and  border  states  were  unquestionably 
superior  to  those  from  the  North-eastern  states.  They  were 
more  habituated  to  an  active  out-of-door  life,  and  more  inured, 
therefore,  to  the  exposure  and  physical  exertion  which  military 
service  demands  than  were  those  who  had  pursued  more  sedentary 
occupations.  They  were  nearly  all  of  them  expert  horsemen  and 
marksmen,  and,  accustomed  to  hunt  and  live  in  the  woods,  were 
already  initiated  in  the  life  of  the  camp.  -*> 

Among  the  Southern  troops  some  of  the  young  fellows  from 
the  cities  seemed,  during  the  first  months  of  service,  to  take 
more  kindly  to  the  camp  and  campaigning  than  even  the  hardiest 
of  their  rural  brethren,  who  had  known  only  the  life  of  the  farm. 
This  was  doubtless  because  the  former  were  already  habituated 
to  irregular  hours  and  eating  and  sleeping  when  most  convenient. 
The  country  boy  could  endure  fatigue,  but  not,  at  first,  the  lack 
of  his  rest  and  meals  at  due  time. 

The  number  of  those,  reared  altogether  in  the  country,  who 
had  escaped  the  usual  diseases  of  infancy  was  surprising,  and 
they  were  generally  afflicted  with  them  after  getting  into  camp. 

Brief  time  was  required,  however,  to  cause  these  minor  differ 
ences  to  disappear  and  make  the  native-born  soldiersof  both  armies 
alike  in  all  essential  respects;  and,  when  equally  well  disciplined 
and  commanded,  all  fought  with  equal  daring  and  tenacity. 

Military  writers  will  eventually  agree,  I  think,  that  the  Ameri 
can  volunteer  can  be  made  a  veteran  in  briefer  time  than  such 
change  can  be  wrought  in  men  of  any  other  nationality; 
and  when  he  becomes  a  veteran,  no  soldier  is  more  apt  and  re- 
.sourceful,  bolder,  or  less  susceptible  to  panic. 


16  REMINISCENCES  OF 

Many  declarations  of  the  belief  so  fondly  cherished  of  the 
invincibility  of  the  Southerner  and  the  incapacity  of  the  Northern 
man  to  match  him  in  battle  will  be  remembered,  and  some  good 
stories  of  how  the  Southerner  frankly  expressed  his  subsequent 
disillusion  in  this  respect  have  been  told.  Every  one  has  heard 
of  the  explanation  of  such  extravagant  utterance  made  by  the 
man  who,  having  been  red-hot  for  secession  and  fight  before  the 
war,  kept  discreetly  in  the  rear  after  it  commenced  and  became 
an  unconditional  supporter  of  every  obnoxious  measure  to  which 
the  South  was  subjected  during  the  reconstruction  period.  He 
was  making  a  speech  at  that  date,  and  some  one  in  the  crowd 
shouted  the  question: 

"Didn't  you  say  in  1860,  on  this  very  spot,  that  we  could  whip 
the  Yankees  with  popguns?" 

"I  did,"  replied  the  unabashed  demagogue,  "and  I  think  so 
still.  But,  d  —  n  'em,  they  wouldn't  fight  us  that  way." 

Some  two  or  three  years  previous  to  the  beginning  of  actual 
hostilities,  and  while  the  whole  country  was  convulsed  with  the 
agitation  which  induced  the  conflict,  I  heard  this  idea  of  the 
Northern  man's  lack  of  courage  or  combativeness  very  earnestly 
denied,  and  in  a  way  which  made  a  strong  impression  on  my  mind. 
It  was  at  a  political  meeting  held  at  Lexington,  Ky.,  which  was 
addressed  by  a  number  of  distinguished  gentlemen.  At  that 
time  men  of  all  political  parties  in  Kentucky,  with  scarce  an 
exception,  entertained  strong  pro-slavery  sentiments.  The 
probability  of  armed  conflict  between  the  sections  was  freely 
discussed  by  the  speakers  who  addressed  this  meeting,  and  all 
announced  that,  in  such  event,  they  would  take  part  with  the 
South,  and  their  belief  that  the  South  would  be  victorious. 
In  the  audience,  listening  intently  to  all  that  was  said,  was  the 
Hon.  Thomas  Francis  Marshall,  the  most  brilliant  orator  Ken 
tucky  has  produced,  and  one  of  the  strongest  intellects  this 
country  has  known.  When  those  regularly  on  the  programme 
had  concluded,  the  crowd  called  vociferously  for  Marshall,  and 
he  took  the  stand. 

He  gave  little  attention  to  the  topics  which  had  been  chiefly 
discussed  by  the  speakers  who  had  preceded  him,  except  to 
combat  in  brief  terms  certain  contentions  that  he  esteemed 
peculiarly  sophistical  or  obnoxious,  but  addressed  himself,  as 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  17 

if  with  prophetic  instinct,  to  what  had  been  said  concerning  the 
sectional  controversy  and  a  possible  separation  of  the  states. 
He  especially  insisted  that  the  opinion  expressed  by  some  of  those 
who  had  spoken,  that  there  might  be  a  peaceable  dissolution 
of  the  Union,  was  fallacious.  Such  a  thing,  he  said,  as  disunion 
without  war  was  impossible;  the  idea  was  sheer  lunacy.  He 
maintained  that  the  people  of  the  North  and  East  would  regard 
an  effort  to  dissolve  the  Union  and  establish  another  and  separate 
government  on  this  continent  as  the  declaration  of  a  war 
which  might  be  continued  for  generations;  that  no  matter 
what  technical  right  the  South  might  show  to  take  such  action, 
or  whatever  cause  of  complaint  she  might  have,  those  people 
would  never  consent  to  disunion  and  would  oppose  its  attempt 
by  force.  Moreover,  the  people  of  the  North-west  would  fight 
rather  than  suffer  the  mouth  of  the  Mississippi  to  be  controlled 
by  a  government  in  which  they  had  no  share,  and  those  every 
where  who  wished  a  great  and  powerful  national  government 
and  the  development  and  material  prosperity  of  the  country 
would  resist  national  disintegration  to  the  bitter  end.  "The 
foundations  of  this  Union,"  he  said,  "  were  laid  in  the  blood  of  the 
sires  of  the  Revolution;  and  if  the  structure  shall  be  destroyed 
its  fragments  will  be  drenched  with  the  blood  of  their  descendants." 

An  attempt  to  dissolve  the  Union  meant  inevitable  war  — 
fierce,  desolating  strife  —  with  consequences,  perhaps,  even 
more  terrible  than  bloodshed. 

He  warned  his  hearers  not  to  be  misled  into  believing  that 
in  such  a  contest  they  would  meet  antagonists  who  would  flinch 
from  the  deadliest  grip  of  battle. 

"You  are  all  bred  from  the  same  stock,  that  stubborn  British 
blood  which,  once  aroused,  maintains  the  struggle  until  strength 
and  hope  are  utterly  exhausted.  I  see  before  me  young  men  who, 
if  that  war  comes,  will  certainly  be  in  it,  and  on  their  account, 
if  for  naught  else,  I  would  not  have  it  come;  above  all  else  I 
exhort  you  not  to  underrate  those  with  whom  you  will  have  to 
fight."  He  quoted  the  tribute  which  Edmund  Burke  rendered 
the  people  of  the  New  England  colonies  —  those  hardy  mariners 
who  "vexed  every  sea  with  their  fisheries,"  who  cast  the  net 
and  drew  the  line  on  the  coasts  of  Greenland  and  struck  the 
sperm  whale  among  the  isles  of  the  Pacific. 


i8  REMINISCENCES  OF 

"You  young  fellows,"  he  said,  "think  the  Yankee  won't 
fight.  Well,  he  doesn't  always  fight  upon  the  same  provocation 
and  exactly  in  the  same  fashion  that  you  do.  If  a  man  calls  a 
Southern  boy  a  liar,  that  man  or  that  boy  must  die.  Give  a 
Kentuckian  a  mint  julep  and  a  pktol  and  he'll  fight  the  devil. 
A  Yankee  doesn't  often  fight  about  a  punctillio,  nor  does  he  fight 
duels.  But  you  get  in  between  him  and  a  cod  fishery,  or  you 
try  to  take  away  from  him  a  barrel  of  molasses,  and  he'll  give 
you  h  — 11. 

"I  thoroughly  appreciate  and  justly  value  Southern  courage 
and  prowess.  Every  drop  of  blood  in  my  veins  is  Southern. 
I  am  proud  of  the  record  the  South  has  won  for  valour.  But  I 
pray  —  although  I  am  not  among  those  whose  prayers  'avail 
much*  —  that  the  people  of  the  South  shall  never  display  that 
valiant  spirit  in  conflict  with  those  of  kindred  blood  and  the 
same  resolute  temper,  and  which,  however  it  terminate,  will 
cause  the  world  to  shudder." 

I  thought  of  that  speech  very  often  while  that  conflict  was  in 
progress,  and  realized  the  truth  of  its  predictions. 

Whatever  may  be  the  ultimate  verdict  of  history  upon  the 
merit  of  the  controversy  or  in  justification  or  censure  of  the 
resulting  strife,  there  is  little  doubt  that  it  will  exonerate  the 
men  on  both  sides  who  fought  in  the  ranks  and  gave  their  breasts 
to  the  battle. 

As  in  all  such  struggles,  they  were  impelled  by  mingled  mo 
tives  and  feelings  they  themselves  could  scarcely  have  defined. 
But  with  far  the  greater  number  the  dominant  incentive  was  a 
devotion  to  their  homes  and  their  people  —  an  unselfish  wish 
to  discharge  what  they  esteemed  a  patriotic  duty. 


CHAPTER  II 

I  WAS  born  and  reared  in  the  Bluegrass  region  of  Kentucky. 
It  is  widely  and  justly  celebrated  for  its  beauty  and 
fertility.  It  is  the  settled  conviction  of  those  who  were 
born  or  who  dwell  there  that  the  sun  in  its  orbit  and  the  stars 
in  their  courses  look  on  no  land  so  favoured  and  generous; 
and  this  belief  is  largely  shared  by  Kentuckians  who  live  in  other 
parts  of  the  state.  A  quasi-dissenting  opinion  is  sometimes  ex 
pressed  regarding  its  superiority  in  general  crops  over  the  best 
of  the  central  and  South-western  counties  and  the  corn-raising 
alluvial  Ohio  River  bottoms;  but  its  unrivalled  excellence  in  all 
else  is  admitted. 

A  Kentuckian  may  listen  to  argument  and  permit  discussion 
of  every  other  matter  but  this.  He  may  modify  certain  very 
stubborn  social  opinions  —  prejudices,  his  critics  call  them; 
he  may  realign  his  religious  views  and  denominational  relations. 
He  is  generally  inclined,  indeed,  to  exchange  the  tenets  taught 
him  by  his  mother  for  those,  if  variant,  entertained  by  his  wife. 
He  has  been  known  —  more  frequently  in  quite  recent  years  — 
to  alter  his  political  affiliations,  and  even  entertain  some  doubt 
of  the  infallibility  of  his  political  traditions;  for  he  is  not  alto 
gether  a  bigot,  except  in  matters  connected  with  the  soil.  But 
only  in  the  hallucinations  of  some  strange  form  of  insanity  could 
he  believe  that  Kentucky  is  not  the  fairest  land  the  Creator  has 
made,  and  the  Bluegrass  region  its  paradise. 

Before  the  white  man  saw  and  coveted  this  land,  its  bounteous 
promise  had  irresistibly  attracted  aboriginal  admirers.  The  red 
tribes  which  dwelt  north  of  the  Ohio  and  their  fierce  rivals  of  the 
same  hue  and  race  who  inhabited  territory  south  of  the  Cumber 
land  fought  many  and  bloody  battles  for  its  possession.  Then,  and 
ever  since,  the  spell  of  the  lovely  landscape  has  fascinated  all  who 
have  beheld  it.  La  Salle,  gazing  from  his  canoe  as  he  floated 
down  the  Ohio  to  its  falls  upon  the  rich  verdure  and  entrancing 
scenery  of  its  southern  shores,  christened  the  great  stream  "La 

19 


20  REMINISCENCES  OF 

Belle  Riviere."  Findlay  and  Boone  from  the  mountain  peaks 
looked  on  the  valleys  in  their  virgin  beauty.  Returning  from 
this  pilgrimage  into  the  wilderness,  the  glowing  narrative  of 
what  they  had  seen  urged  hundreds  of  daring  adventurers 
to  enter  and  wrest  it  from  the  savage.  After  its  partial 
settlement,  an  old  pioneer  preacher,  having  in  an  earnest 
sermon  informed  his  hearers  of  the  punishment  to  be  visited  on  the 
wicked  and  unrepentant  in  the  next  world,  but  wishing  to  also 
fitly  depict  the  happiness  awaiting  the  righteous,  concluded  a 
fervent  description  of  such  future  bliss  with  the  declaration, 
"And,  oh,  my  brethren,  heaven  is  a  Kentucky  of  a  place." 

While  yet  beautiful,  the  Bluegrass  country  has  lost  some  of  the 
charm  which  made  it  so  attractive  forty  or  fifty  years  ago.  So 
many  of  its  groves  have  been  given  to  the  plough,  so  many  noble 
trees,  which  added  a  certain  dignity  as  well  as  beauty  to  the 
landscape,  have  been  felled,  that  its  aspect,  save  in  a  few  locali 
ties,  has  been  materially  changed.  This  alteration  has  doubtless 
been  of  commercial  advantage,  but  at  the  cost  of  a  sad  sacrifice  of 
the  picturesque.  The  tobacco  fields  which  yield  large  profits  - 
when  the  night  rider  permits  them  to  be  worked  —  are  not 
nearly  so  pleasing  to  the  eye  as  were  the  stately  forest  growth 
they  have  replaced. 

In  the  immediate  ante-bellum  period,  this  region  was  in  the 
acme  of  its  loveliness.  Then,  so  to  speak,  the  charm  of  nature 
was  blended  in  just  degree  with  the  grace  of  cultivation,  making 
the  picture  perfect.  The  original  dense  and  far-stretching 
forests,  thinned  but  not  destroyed  by  the  axe,  had  been  succeeded 
by  woodland  pastures  in  which  the  savage  majesty  of  the  wilder 
ness  was  softened  to  a  milder  glory  by  the  sunlight  admitted 
into  the  glades.  But  thousands  of  mighty  trees  —  survivors, 
perhaps,  of  the  time  when  the  pioneer  first  came  and  the  Indian 
yet  lingered  —  still  stood  like  huge  sentinels  guarding  the  olden 
character  of  the  soil.  Between  and  in  vivid  contrast  with  the 
woodlands,  stretched  broad  fields  of  tasselled  maize  and  other 
cereals,  of  tufted  hemp,  and  meadows  where  grazed  the  lordly 
horses  and  cattle  which  were  then,  as  now,  the  pride  of  the 
Kentucky  breeder.  Over  woodland  and  meadow  was  spread 
the  bright  green  mantle  of  the  bluegrass,  from  which  the  region 
takes  its  name. 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  21 

The  beauty  of  this  country  is  much  enhanced  by  its  peculiar 
topography.  It  is  neither  hilly  nor  level  but  undulates  in  all 
directions  in  a  succession  of  wide  "  swells,"  rising  to  no  great 
height,  the  depression  of  the  intervening  ground  being  so  gradual 
that  it  rarely  gives  the  impression  of  a  valley.  This  formation 
very  little  diminishes  the  extent  of  the  vista,  while  it  presents 
every  feature  of  the  prospect  to  the  eye.  It  may  be  purely 
fancy,  but  I  think  that  this  was  more  noticeable  at  the  date  of 
which  I  speak  than  it  is  now. 

The  only  needful  provision  of  nature  which  this  region  may  be 
said  to  lack  —  more  particularly  that  part  of  it  lying  between 
the  little  Licking  River  on  the  north  and  the  Kentucky  on  the 
south  —  is  an  adequate  water  supply.  Sometimes,  in  periods 
of  extreme  drought,  this  want  is  seriously  felt,  especially  for 
live  stock.  Although  a  native  of  the  Bluegrass  and  well  ac 
quainted  with  all  of  it,  I  did  not  thoroughly  realize  its  deficiency 
in  this  respect  until  I  traversed  it  with  considerable  bodies  of 
cavalry  during  the  Civil  War.  We  found  more  difficulty  in 
procuring  water  for  our  horses  on  the  march  than  we  had  ever 
experienced  in  Tennessee  and  northern  Alabama.  Neverthe 
less,  several  minor  streams  —  creeks  —  flow  through  this  part 
of  the  country,  some  of  them,  like  the  North  and  the  South  Elk- 
horn,  very  beautiful  and  furnishing  abundant  water  even  for 
milling  purposes.  There  are  also  many  springs,  of  pure  and 
deliciously  cool  water,  whence  issue  small  brooks;  but  while 
these  generally  furnish  water  for  household  use,  few  are  large 
enough  to  provide  for  the  multitude  of  deep-drinking  live  stock 
of  all  kinds  bred  there. 

The  country  for  some  miles  about  Georgetown,  in  Scott 
County,  was  then  the  fairest  and  most  typical  spot  of  the  Blue- 
grass.  It  is  yet,  despite  the  fact  that  it  has  been  subjected  to 
some  extent  to  the  general  desecration  of  timber  destruction 
and  tobacco  planting.  I  am  a  native  of  that  locality,  and  my 
testimony  therefore  is  competent  and  impartial.  I  will  also 
state  that  it  has  never  been  disputed  by  any  one  whose  opinion 
in  such  matters  I  have  had  reason  to  respect.  Georgetown 
was  one  of  the  earliest  settlements  made  in  Kentucky.  A  small 
station  was  established  there  in  October,  1775,  induced,  perhaps, 
by  the  unusually  large  and  fine  spring  which  gushes  in  generous 


22  REMINISCENCES  OF 

volume  from  a  ledge  of  rocks  near  where  the  stockade  was 
erected.  The  first  settlers  called  it  the  "Royal  Spring."  The 
name  originally  given  the  settlement  was  "McLellan's  Fort," 
in  honour  of  its  founder.  In  1776  it  was  attacked  by  the  In 
dians,  but  offered  a  successful  resistance  and  was  not  afterward 
seriously  threatened.  Tradition,  however,  long  preserved 
fragmentary  accounts  of  thrilling  adventures  supposed  to  have 
occurred  in  the  vicinity  during  the  long,  dark  period  of  warfare 
with  the  red  savage.  The  numerous  specimens  found  of  flint 
arrow  heads  and  spear  points,  such  as  the  Indians  are  said  to 
have  used  before  the  coming  of  the  whites,  would  indicate  that 
this  locality  had  been  a  favourite  hunting  ground  of  the  Indians 
and,  perhaps,  the  scene  of  fierce  battles. 

Be  that  as  it  may,  it  is  certain  that  in  this  region,  known  now 
as  the  Bluegrass,  was  waged  the  most  desperate  and  protracted 
struggle  with  the  original  occupants  of  the  soil  which  is  recorded 
in  the  history  of  Western  settlement;  by  far  the  fiercest  in  the 
history  of  Kentucky,  for  it  was  here  that  actual  settlement  was 
first  attempted. 

Boonesboro,  upon  its  verge,  was  more  than  once  besieged  by 
the  most  redoubtable  of  the  Shawnee  and  Piankeshaw  warriors, 
aided,  in  one  instance,  by  French  allies,  and  as  often  repulsed  the 
assailants.  Harrodsburg  and  Logan's  Fort  had  each  an  almost 
similar  experience.  Ruddle's  and  Martin's  Stations,  on  the 
Licking,  were  assaulted  by  combined  Indian  and  English  forces. 
The  heroic  defence  of  Bryan's  Station,  situated  not  far  from 
Lexington,  is  famous  in  the  annals  of  Indian  warfare;  and  the 
bloody  battle  of  the  Blue  Licks  has  scarcely  a  parallel  in  such 
strife  for  the  daring  with  which  the  settlers  attacked  a  much 
more  numerous  body  of  their  savage  enemies,  and  the  tragic 
disaster  they  sustained. 

The  pioneers  had  all  been  long  gathered  to  their  fathers,  when 
I,  then  a  child,  first  heard  old  men  of  the  succeeding  generation, 
tell  strange  tales  of  these  combats  and  of  the  atrocity  of  the  red 
demons,  learned  from  those  who  had  witnessed  them.  I  do  not 
know  to  what  extent  —  if  any  —  these  narrations  may  have 
been  embellished.  A  more  recent  and  thorough  acquaintance 
with  the  character  of  war  stories  induces  me  to  believe  that  they 
may  not  have  been  related  with  the  most  scrupulous 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  23 

adherence  to  accuracy;  and  I  used  to  listen  to  some  marvellous 
and  appalling  narrations  along  this  line.  While  immensely 
impressed  and  somewhat  frightened  by  the  dangers  of  battle 
and  the  ferocity  of  the  combatants  as  they  were  painted  in 
these  recitals,  I  could  not,  boy-like,  help  secretly  hoping  that  I 
might,  some  day,  see  similar  scenes  —  with  some  of  the  details, 
such  as  scalping  and  torture,  omitted  —  reenacted  on  the 
same  soil.  I  lived  to  partially  realize  the  wish,  and  to  regret  its 
fulfilment. 

I  remember  more  particularly  one  of  these  stories,  perhaps 
because  it  differed  altogether  in  kind  from  the  others,  and  served 
to  illustrate  the  justice  of  a  remark  that  I  once  heard  from  a 
Texas  frontiersman,  to  the  effect  that  "After  all  said,  Injuns 
is  partly  human." 

According  to  this  story,  as  it  was  told  me,  an  old  pioneer  and 
Indian  fighter,  of  whose  name  I  can  only  remember  that  he  was 
called  "Captain  Billy,"  lived  in  his  old  age  somewhere  between 
Lexington  and  Maysville.  In  the  "dark  and  bloody"  days, 
when  Kentucky  was  constantly  menaced  with  Indian  raids  and 
massacres,  he  had,  so  ran  the  story,  for  some  inexplicable  reason, 
rendered  friendly  service  to  a  Shawnee  brave,  giving  him,  when 
wounded,  shelter  and  protection.  What  might  equally  excite 
incredulity  —  for  few  people  who  have  had  dealings  with  the 
"wild"  Indian  believe  him  capable  of  such  sentiment  —  this 
Indian  cherished  a  grateful  remembrance  of  the  kindness,  and 
the  two  became  close  and  warm  friends. 

After  the  terrible  hostilities  had  ceased  and,  with  security,  a 
more  pacific  feeling  prevailed,  the  Indian  was  accustomed, 
once  every  year,  to  visit  his  white  comrade  at  his  home  in  Ken 
tucky.  Captain  Billy  was  always  glad  to  receive  him  and 
usually  made  him  stay  for  several  days.  This  was  kept  up  until 
both  had  attained  a  very  great  age.  I  should  say  that,  after 
the  whites  had  learned  to  tolerate  his  presence,  the  Indian  was 
also  given  the  title  of  captain.  When  the  friends  met  they 
would  cordially  shake  hands  with  the  usual  salutation  of 
"howdy,"  and  would  then  sit  for  hours  in  solemn  unbroken 
silence,  exchanging,  perhaps,  less  than  a  dozen  words  during  the 
entire  visit.  The  Indian,  except  when  at  meals,  incessantly  smoked 
his  pipe,  and  Captain  Billy  as  inveterately  chewed  tobacco. 


24  REMINISCENCES  OF 

One  day  two  or  three  neighbours  of  Captain  Billy  dropped 
in  to  see  him,  but  in  a  short  time  were  forced  to  practise  the 
same  reticence,  simply  because  he  wouldn't  talk.  At  length  the 
Indian  seemed  suddenly  smitten  with  a  realization  of  the  humour 
of  the  situation,  and  —  an  unusual  thing  in  one  of  his  race  - 
broke  into  a  loud  and  prolonged  fit  of  laughter.  When  his 
paroxysm  of  uncouth  mirth  had  partially  subsided,  seeing  a 
look  of  astonishment  and  inquiry  on  the  faces  of  the  others, 
he  condescended  to  explain: 

"Ole  Cap'en  Smokepipe,"  he  said,  "come  to  see  Ole  Cap'en 
Chawterbac;  have  heap  fun." 

There  are  many  legends  current  in  this  region  regarding 
events  of  later  date  than  those  of  the  pioneer  period  —  legends 
which  deal  with  achievements  of  which  Kentuckians  are  proud 
and  embalming  names  which  they  revere.  I  love  best,  however, 
to  recall  the  ordinary  incidents  associated  with  my  boyhood 
memories  and  the  scenes  with  which  I  was  then  familiar. 

The  rural  life  of  central  Kentucky,  in  the  twenty  or  thirty 
years  preceding  the  Civil  War,  was  extremely  pleasant,  and 
while  simple  and  unostentatious,  had  some  social  features  pe 
culiarly  attractive.  The  Bluegrass  farmers  were  a  robust  and 
well-to-do  generation;  very  much  inclined  to  enjoy  creature 
comforts,  and  well  supplied  with  them;  fond,  also,  of  good 
company  and  hail  fellowship.  Their  farms  yielded  them  abun 
dant  provisions  for  home  consumption,  and  generally  a  hand 
some  revenue  in  addition.  As  people  so  situated  usually  are, 
they  were  hospitable,  and  liberal  in  all  matters  save,  perhaps 
a  few  cherished  opinions. 

The  peculiar  "institution"  furnished  a  domestic  service  which 
was  of  great  assistance  in  such  functions,  for  the  negro,  in 
"slave  times,"  seemed  intuitively  to  comprehend  and  vastly 
like  the  duties  of  hospitality,  and  was  always  ready  and  un 
tiring  in  his  efforts  to  care  for  a  guest  and  vicariously  play 
the  part  of  host. 

In  this  respect,  life  in  Kentucky  at  that  date  much  resembled 
what  it  was  in  Virginia,  Tennessee,  and  other  Southern 
states.  Much  time  was  given  to  visiting  and  mutual  enter 
tainment  among  neighbours  and  friends.  Nearly  all  of  the 
farmers  were  amply  provided  with  the  kind  of  transportation 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  25 

then  in  common  use  and  most  favoured.  They  had  carriages 
and  wheeled  vehicles  of  all  sorts  and  sizes,  but  the  favourite 
method  of  getting  about  was  on  horseback.  Usually  each 
member  of  the  family  claimed  his  or  her  especial  "riding"  horse 
—  as  was  then  the  term  for  the  saddler;  and  they  not  only  rode 
to  church  and  town,  and  on  short  visits,  but  sometimes  made 
journeys  of  many  miles  on  horseback.  Gen.  John  B.  Castleman, 
in  one  of  his  articles  on  the  American  saddle  horse,  graphically 
refers  to  the  preference  prevailing  at  that  period  for  the  saddle. 
He  says  that  two  acquaintances  might  meet  in  Lexington  on 
county  court  day.  "Tom,"  one  would  inquire,  "is  Andy 
Gorham  in  town  to-day?" 

"Yes,"  Tom  would  answer.  "I  haven't  seen  him,  but  I 
saw  his  horse  standing  at  the  hitching  rack  a  little  while  ago." 

I  recall  no  recollection  of  my  early  boyhood  with  keener  relish 
than  that  of  the  old-fashioned  "barbecue."  I  do  not  mean 
the  big  political  meetings  that  were  so  designated,  where  the 
candidates  and  orators  of  one  or  the  other  party  would  hold 
forth  to  sympathetic  and  applauding  crowds.  Those  which  I 
have  in  mind  were  much  smaller,  but  far  more  agreeable  occa 
sions,  when  the  residents  of  some  particular  locality  —  immediate 
neighbours  —  would  assemble  purely  for  social  converse  and 
enjoyment,  and  more  than  forty  or  fifty  people  seldom  attended. 
It  used  to  be  said  that  a  gathering  of  this  kind  was  not  much 
favoured  by  any  one  who  sought  distinction  either  as  orator 
or  raconteur.  The  size  of  the  audience  was  discouraging,  inas 
much  as  "it  was  too  small  for  a  speech  and  too  large 
for  an  anecdote." 

Saturday  was  the  day  usually  selected  for  these  barbecues,  and 
they  were  always  held  in  a  woodland  pasture  and  near  some 
cool  spring  and  brook.  Everybody  who  attended  was  expected 
to  come  early  in  the  morning,  and  the  roasting  of  the  meat  and 
preparation  of  the  "burgoo"  began  at  or  before  daybreak.  In 
pits  previously  dug  for  such  purposes,  large  fires  —  preferably 
of  hickory  —  would  be  started  and  allowed  to  burn  for  some 
hours  before  those  charged  with  the  duty  of  roasting  or  "bar 
becuing"  the  meat  commenced  their  task.  In  order  that  this 
work,  which  demanded  careful  and  skilful  attention,  might  be 
properly  done,  it  was  necessary  that  the  sides  of  the  pit  should 


26  REMINISCENCES  OF 

become  as  hot  as  the  lid  of  an  oven,  and  its  bottom  —  the 
flames  of  the  fire  having  subsided  —  should  be  filled  with  a 
mass  of  glowing  embers.  Then  carcasses  of  sheep  and  half- 
grown  pigs,  suitably  dressed  and  skewered  with  long,  stout 
sticks,  were  placed  over  the  pits  and  the  beds  of  hot  coals,  re 
maining  until  done  to  a  turn.  Of  course  the  most  judicious 
supervision  had  to  be  exercised,  that  the  fire  should  be  kept  hot, 
but  not  allowed  to  rise  in  flame  which  could  scorch  the  meat, 
and  that  the  meat  should  be  turned  and  basted  at  proper  inter 
vals.  It  can  be  well  understood  that  those  upon  whom  this 
important  responsibility  was  imposed,  claimed  autocratic  au 
thority  and  brooked  no  interference.  The  meat  so  cooked  had  a 
delicious  flavour. 

As  for  the  "burgoo,"  no  description  can  give  one  who  has 
never  tasted  it  an  idea  of  its  luscious  excellence,  when  it  has 
been  made  by  a  real  expert. 

I  believe  that  this  dish  is  made  now  very  much  as  it  was  then, 
but  I  do  not  find  it  now  nearly  so  palatable.  While  termed  a 
soup,  it  had  more  the  consistency  of  a  stew  and  was  composed 
of  a  number  of  savoury  ingredients.  Several  kinds  of  vegetables 
-  corn  and  tomatoes  being  the  staple  ones  —  with  beef,  mutton, 
sometimes  a  small  piece  of  pork,  and  chickens,  were  put  together 
in  kettles  and  boiled  slowly  and  thoroughly  until  the  various 
materials  had  become  blended  into  a  culinary  product  of  perfect 
and  exquisite  flavour.  It  was  highly  seasoned,  of  course,  with 
salt  and  pepper,  and  served  in  new  tin  cups.  Gastronomic 
authorities  averred  that  its  taste  was  impaired,  if  served  in  any 
other  way.  Young  squirrels  were  considered  to  be  a  valuable 
addition  to  the  receipt,  and  the  part  assigned  the  boys  in  the 
preparation  of  the  banquet  was  to  procure  the  squirrels.  Start 
ing  out  in  the  early  summer  morning,  while  the  dew  yet  glistened 
on  the  grass,  and  the  gleaming  sun,  just  risen,  lighted  up  the 
green  wood  with  his  first  slanting  rays,  we  rarely  failed  to  secure 
a  full  bag  of  this  game.  At  that  hour  the  little  gray  gossips 
were  much  in  evidence,  chasing  about  among  the  trees,  leaping 
from  one  swaying  bough  to  another,  and  chattering  until  the 
welkin  rang  with  their  small  but  shrill  clamour. 

The  principal  and  most  popular  feature  of  these  gatherings 
was  the  "  shooting  match."  As  I  first  remember  them,  and 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  27 

for  some  years  thereafter,  these  contests  were  conducted  entirely 
with  the  old  "squirrel  rifle,"  which,  with  the  exception  that  the 
percussion  lock  had  been  substituted  for  the  flint,  was  much  the 
same  kind  of  piece  as  that  used  by  the  pioneers  and  early  hunters. 
Its  small  calibre  and  the  light  bullet  it  carried  peculiarly  adapted 
it  to  squirrel  shooting,  for  which  it  was  eventually  almost  solely 
used;  but  in  the  hands  of  the  pioneer,  it  brought  down  larger 
game,  deer,  bear,  and  quite  often  the  Indian. 

I  do  not  know  what  was  the  extreme  effective  range  of  this 
rifle.  I  should  think  not  much  more  than  two  hundred  yards. 
Nevertheless,  in  all  of  the  battles  with  the  Indians,  it  did  efficient 
service,  and  its  deadly  accuracy  was  demonstrated  at  New  Orleans, 
when  Packenham's  regulars  fell  in  heaps  before  the  breastworks 
of  cotton  bales,  manned  by  the  Kentucky  and  Tennessee  rifle 
men  who  were  armed  with' this  weapon.  The  stories  told  of  the 
marksmanship  of  Boone,  Kenton,  and  their  confreres  sound 
almost  as  marvellous  as  those  related  of  the  English  bowmen  — 
the  feats  of  archery  performed  by  Robin  Hood  and  Will  Scarlet. 
Of  course,  the  men  whom  I  saw  use  the  rifle,  at  the  time  of  which 
I  write,  were  tyros  compared  with  these  heroes  of  tradition; 
nevertheless,  they  could  do  some  fairly  good  shooting. 

The  distance  usually  chosen  for  these  contests  was  sixty 
yards,  which  may  appear  insignificant  to  those  accustomed  to 
modern  arms.  But  the  range  of  the  old-fashioned  rifle  was 
short,  and  the  marksmen  fired  "off-hand,"  that  is  to  say,  with 
out  a  rest.  The  target  was  a  wide,  thick  plank,  on  which  was 
tacked  a  circular  piece  of  white  paper  a  little  larger  than  a 
silver  dollar.  hi  the  centre  of  this  paper  a  black  spot, 
about  the  size  of  a  25-cent  piece,  was  painted.  Two  lines 
were  drawn  across  this  black  spot,  intersecting  each  other 
at  right  angles.  The  point  of  their  intersection  was  con 
sidered  the  exact  centre  of  the  target.  I  have  more  than  once 
seen  five  or  six  out  of  perhaps  a  dozen  competitors  put  their 
bullets  in  the  white  paper,  and  one  or  two,  in  the  same  match, 
hit  the  black  spot.  I  can  recall  no  instance  when  I  saw  any 
one  "cut  the  cross,"  that  is  to  say,  hit  the  exact  centre.  Al 
though  jollity  and  merriment  were  prevalent  at  these  meetings, 
they  were  never  riotous  or  disorderly,  and  good  humour  always 
obtained.  Much  drinking  was  neither  encouraged  nor  tolerated; 


28  REMINISCENCES  OF 

but  a  reasonable  quantity  of  "Old  Crow,"  the  most  famous 
whiskey  ever  made  in  Kentucky,  was  supplied  and  used  in  moder 
ation.  The  presence  of  the  older  men  —  the  patriarchs  and 
nestors  of  the  community  —  was  a  certain  restraint  on  the 
younger.  These  old  gentlemen  sat  in  the  shade,  waited  on  by 
darkies  sedulously  attentive  to  their  comforts.  They  watched 
the  sports  with  unabated  interest,  talked  about  "early  times" 
in  Kentucky,  occasionally  offered  a  sage  political  opinion  or 
prediction,  and  gave  wise  advice  to  the  little  boys  —  reverently 
listened  to  and  immediately  forgotten.  If  a  dispute  arose  among 
the  marksmen  difficult  to  settle,  it  was  referred  to  them  as  a 
court  of  last  resort. 

Sometimes  a  reverend  gentleman  —  usually  the  pastor  of 
some  neighbouring  church  —  would  come  to  these  barbecues, 
and  he  invariably  received  the  profoundest  respect  and  defer 
ence.  No  matter  what  the  provocation,  the  most  impetuous 
forbore  to  swear  if  he  was  supposed  to  be  within  ear-shot  —  un 
less,  indeed,  in  a  very  subdued  tone;  and  it  was  considered  very 
bad  form  to  imbibe  ardent  spirits,  while  he  was  on  the  ground, 
without  getting  behind  a  tree.  These  gentlemen  were  entitled  to 
such  consideration.  They  were  good  men,  of  edifying  conversa 
tion  and  exemplary  conduct.  This  was  especially  true  of  one 
preacher  who  was  a  frequent  attendant  on  such  occasions. 
I  do  not  remember  to  what  denomination  he  belonged.  I  never 
heard  him  mention  such  matters,  but  he  always  took  part  in  the 
shooting  matches,  and  could  hit  the  black  as  often  as  any  one. 

The  "Sport  of  Kings,"  however,  was  the  one  which  beyond 
all  others  fascinated  the  people  of  whom  I  write.  The  love  of 
the  thoroughbred  horse  is  instinctive  with  the  Kentuckian.  So 
soon  as  it  was  discovered  that  no  pasturage  was  so  nutritious 
as  that  of  certain  sections  of  Kentucky,  and  especially  of  the 
region  which  in  this  regard  has  become  so  famous  that  it  is 
believed  the  grass  and  water  of  no  other  soil  produces  such  bone 
and  flesh  as  does  that  underlying  the  blue  limestone  —  the  farmer 
of  the  Bluegrass  turned  his  attention  to  stock  raising,  and  made 
the  breeding  of  the  thoroughbred  —  the  race-horse  —  a  specialty. 
Inheriting  this  predilection  from  his  Virginia  ancestry,  he 
procured  the  first  of  the  strain  he  afterward  so  greatly  im 
proved  from  the  mother  state;  but  when  the  region  was  quickly 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  29 

recognized  as,  par  excellence,  the  congenial  habitat  of  the 
blooded  horse,  the  finest  and  fleetest  specimens  from  other 
parts  of  the  continent  were  brought  to  Kentucky,  and  their 
progeny  soon  outclassed  all  that  had  been  previously  reared 
in  America. 

Some  envious  satirist  once  said  that  the  "First  citizen  of 
Kentucky  is  always  a  horse."  While  this  statement  is  conceived 
in  a  spirit  of  malicious  criticism,  it  must  be  admitted  that  if  the 
thoroughbred  or  the  saddle  horse  could  be  taught  to  vote,  viva 
voce  or  by  ballot,  many  Kentuckians  would  be  willing  to  con 
cede  him  constitutional  and  statutory  right  to  attain  that 
exalted  eminence. 

Race  meetings  were  held  in  Kentucky  early  in  the  last  century. 
Nearly  every  town  in  the  Bluegrass  had  its  race  course,  and  the 
interest  in  racing  was  intense  and  pervaded  all  classes.  The 
descendants  of  Diomed,  and  of  his  famous  son,  Sir  Archy,  of 
Medley,  Fearnought,  and  Priam  contended  with  the  get  of  less 
celebrated  sires. 

At  a  later  day  Lexington  became  the  racing  as  it  is  now  the 
breeding  centre.  Short  races,  and  the  racing  of  two-year-olds 
were  not  then  in  favour.  Four  and  two  miles  were  the  favourite 
distances.  While  these  contests  did  not  furnish  such  exhibitions 
of  speed  as  have  been  more  recently  witnessed,  they  were  surer 
tests  of  courage  and  endurance.  Frequent  importations  of 
English  stallions  continued  to  improve  the  blood.  Glencoe, 
Yorkshire,  Leamington,  and  Lexington  —  native  born  and  chief 
of  all  —  were  recognized  as  the  monarchs  of  the  stud. 

In  course  of  time  larger  stakes  and  purses  were  offered,  and 
the  breeding  of  the  thoroughbred  became  a  profitable  industry. 
The  large  racing  stables,  however,  so  common  in  recent  years, 
were  not  then  in  existence.  The  wealthy  farmers,  who  were  the 
principal  patrons  of  the  sport,  raced  colts  of  their  own  breeding, 
and  the  hope  of  victory  was  a  stronger  incentive  than  any  desire 
of  gain.  The  trainers  and  jockeys  at  that  time  were  almost 
always  negroes,  and  although  not  so  intelligent  and  competent 
as  their  Caucasian  successors  in  the  same  vocations,  they 
were  perhaps  more  trustworthy.  Loyalty  to  the  interest 
of  their  masters,  and  pride  in  their  equine  wards,  made  them 
proof  against  the  seductive  wiles  of  the  bookmaker. 


30  REMINISCENCES  OF 

At  one  time  "  match  races,"  in  which  two  famous  racers  would 
be  pitted  against  each  other  —  something  never  seen  now  — 
were  quite  popular.  A  Kentucky  horse  would  be  matched  against 
one  from  another  state,  and  large  sums  were  often  wagered  on 
the  result. 

It  cannot  be  doubted  that  racing  as  then  practised  tended  to 
improve  the  general  breed  of  horses.  The  blood  of  the  thorough 
bred  benefits  that  of  any  stock  with  which  it  is  mingled.  He  has 
inherited  from  his  Arab  ancestor  the  potency  with  which  he 
reproduces  his  own  distinctive  traits,  and  impresses  them  dura 
bly  on  even  the  inferior  strains  with  which  his  own  is  blended. 
To  the  large  infusion  of  this  blood  in  the  horses  which  it  used 
may  be,  in  great  measure,  attributed  the  excellent  service  ren 
dered  by  the  Southern  cavalry  during  the  Civil  War  and  the 
extraordinary  marches  it  performed. 

The  last  decade  of  their  ante-bellum  history  must  always  be 
regarded  by  the  people  of  the  South  and  of  Kentucky  with  a 
peculiar  interest.  A  revolution  was  impending  which  was  to 
destroy  the  old  order,  and  inaugurate  another  that  to  them 
would  appear  like  a  new  world.  Dimly  discerning,  but  not 
entirely  conscious  of  what  was  coming,  they  were  thrilled  with 
a  feeling  of  mingled  expectancy  and  apprehension.  In  Kentucky, 
where  there  was  earnest  debate  over  action  which  in  the 
extreme  South  was  already  regarded  as  pre-determined,  popular 
opinion  was  divided.  There  were  many  able  men  in  Kentucky 
at  that  date,  although  some  of  the  greatest  had  recently 
passed  away.  Eminent  divines  spoke  from  her  pulpits,  and 
eloquent  orators  and  advocates  on  the  stump  and  in  the  forum. 
Mr.  Clay  had  just  died  and  to  his  overweening  influence  had 
succeeded  the  extraordinary  personal  popularity  of  John  C. 
Breckinridge.  Mr.  Crittenden,  on  the  verge  of  the  grave,  was  yet 
active  in  his  public  efforts,  and  even  those  who  would  not  heed 
his  counsel  loved  and  respected  him. 

It  is  the  proverbial  inclination  of  old  age  to  regard  the  past 
with  an  appreciation  it  cannot  accord  the  present.  In  the  winter 
of  life  we  do  not  find  the  bloom  and  aroma  that  we  perceived 
in  its  spring  and  summer.  Looking  back  upon  that  period, 
through  the  glamour  in  which  an  old  man  views  the  scenes  and 
events  of  his  youth,  I  may  be  pardoned  for  believing  that,  in 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  31 

some  respects,  it  was  better  and  happier  than  the  one  in  which 
we  are  living. 

The  Kentuckians  of  fifty  years  ago,  with  all  their  faults,  were 
a  virile  generation,  somewhat  over-passionate,  and  perhaps 
unduly  inclined  to  submit  their  differences  to  the  trial  by  combat, 
but  loving  fair  play  and  hating  cowardly  or  cruel  injustice. 

Whether  the  "old"  Kentucky  was,  or  was  not,  better  than  the 
Kentucky  of  to-day  —  and  it  is  just  as  well  not  to  discuss  that 
question  —  something  of  her  former  glory  and  prestige,  as  well 
as  interest  and  beauty,  seems  lacking.  The  land  has  undergone 
a  metamorphosis,  and  "the  tender  grace  of  a  day  that  is  dead" 
can  never  return. 


CHAPTER  III 

AT  THE  beginning  of  the  Civil  War  I  was  a  citizen  of  Mis 
souri  and  resident  of  St.  Louis,  and  first  did  service 
in  the  cause  of  the  South,  or,  as  our  opponents  termed 
it,  gave  aid  to  the  rebellion,  in  that  city.  If  I  had  needed  other 
excuse  for  such  action  than  the  approval  of  my  own  judgment 
and  conscience,  I  might  have  found  it  in  the  character  of  my 
associates;  for  no  men  were  ever  influenced  by  sincerer  convic 
tions  or  impelled  by  more  unselfish  motives.  I  may  add  with 
pardonable  pride  that  many  of  my  comrades  of  that  period,  the 
majority  of  whom  were  very  young  men,  subsequently  won 
enviable  reputation  in  the  Confederate  army;  but  the  daring 
courage  and  adventurous  spirit  which  distinguished  them  as 
soldiers  were  never  more  conspicuously  shown  than  in  that 
exciting  novitiate  in  St.  Louis. 

While  political  sentiment  in  Missouri  was  greatly  divided  on 
the  issues  presented  in  the  Presidential  campaign  of  1860,  the 
great  bulk  of  her  people,  although  there  were  among  them  few 
"original  secessionists,"  to  use  the  term  then  in  vogue,  were 
heartily  in  sympathy  with  the  South.  Of  the  Presidential 
candidates,  Douglas,  Breckinridge,  and  Bell,  received  148,489 
votes,  as  against  only  17,028  cast  for  Lincoln;  and  much  the 
larger  part  of  the  number  first  mentioned  ultimately  became 
ardent,  if  not  open  and  active,  supporters  of  the  Confederacy. 
The  Republican  party  of  Missouri  was  confined  almost  entirely 
to  St.  Louis,  but  was  strong  and  aggressive  in  the  city;  and  the 
initial  struggle  between  the  warring  political  elements,  when, 
after  Lincoln's  election,  the  real  and  sterner  conflict  began,  was 
decided  there. 

It  is  not  my  purpose  to  attempt  an  extended  account  or  dis 
cussion  of  the  political  situation  then  existing  in  Missouri, 
but  merely  to  relate  my  own  personal  experiences.  Yet  these 
can  scarcely  be  described  intelligibly  without  some  brief  narration 
of  the  more  important  events  with  which  they  were  connected. 

32 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  33 

In  January,  1861,  the  General  Assembly  of  Missouri  passed 
an  act  providing  for  an  election  during  the  following  month 
of  members  of  a  convention  which  should  consider  the  future 
relations  to  exist  between  the  government  of  the  United  States 
and  the  people  of  the  State  of  Missouri;  that  is  to  say,  which 
should  determine  whether  the  state  should  remain  in  the  Union 
or  secede. 

By  this  measure  the  issue  was  sharply  and  suddenly  defined  — 
too  promptly  and  positively,  indeed,  to  permit  any  chance 
for  success  for  the  hopes  and  plans  of  the  extreme  Southern  and 
states'  rights  men;  because  the  greater  number  of  those  who 
were  Southern  in  sentiment  were  not  yet  reconciled  to  the 
thought  of  disunion,  or  prepared  to  take  action  which  would 
almost  inevitably  precipitate  strife  and  bloodshed.  Nothing 
demonstrates  this  more  clearly  than  the  fact  that  very  many 
prominent  Missourians  who  were  subsequently  leaders  in  the 
councils  of  the  South  and  among  the  most  distinguished  soldiers 
of  the  Confederacy  —  Gen.  Sterling  Price  was  of  the  number  — 
took  strong  ground  in  the  canvass  preceding  the  election  of  its 
members  and  in  the  convention  itself,  in  advocacy  of  the  Union 
and  opposition  to  secession.  Price  was  chosen  president  of  the 
convention  because  he  was  considered  the  most  earnest  and, 
perhaps,  the  ablest  exponent  of  such  views.  No  one  should 
have  been  surprised,  therefore,  although  many  were,  when  the 
convention  decided  that  Missouri  should  remain  in  the  Union. 

But  while  the  greater  number  of  the  Southern  sympathizers, 
and  especially  those  of  such  age  and  prominence  as  entitled 
them  to  aspire  to  seats  in  the  convention,  were  thus  conservative, 
there  were  a  few  influential  men  among  the  recognized  political 
leaders  of  the  state  who  desired  that  Missouri  should  make 
common  cause  with  her  Southern  sisters  and  share  the  fate  of 
their  people;  and  the  very  young  men  of  both  wings  of  the 
Democratic  party  and  of  those  who  voted  for  Bell  and  Everett 
were,  with  few  exceptions,  determined  to  take  the  part  of  the 
South.  Some  of  these  youths  had  listened  with  little  patience 
to  any  suggestion  of  a  dissolution  of  the  Union  until  it  became 
apparent  that  coercion  of  the  seceding  states  would  be  attempted. 
But  they  believed  that  coercion  was  more  to  be  condemned  than 
secession,  and  they  were  resolved  to  side  with  their  kinsmen 


34  REMINISCENCES  OF 

of  the  South,  whether  right  or  wrong.  Additional  confidence 
and  stimulus  was  given  this  element  by  the  knowledge  that 
Gov.  Claiborne  F.  Jackson  cordially  entertained  the  same  senti 
ment  and  would  urge  action  in  conformity  with  it. 

Governor  Jackson  had  been  elected  as  the  regular  Demo 
cratic  nominee;  that  is  to  say,  as  the  representative  of  the 
Douglas  wing  of  the  party.  He  had  always  been  an  ardent  and 
uncompromising  " states'  rights"  man,  but  was  not,  in  the  strict 
acceptation  of  the  term,  a  secessionist;  nor  had  he,  I  believe, 
ever  contemplated  with  favour  the  idea  that  Missouri  should 
withdraw  from  the  Union  until  after  Lincoln's  election  to  the 
Presidency  and  the  threat  of  forcible  interference  with  the 
states  which  proposed  to  secede.  He  was  a  man  of  strong 
sense  and  strong  character,  more  vehement  than  cautious, 
notwithstanding  his  training  as  a  politician,  generous  and  mag 
netic  and  capable  of  both  feeling  and  attracting  warm  personal 
friendship.  Immediately  upon  the  passage  of  the  act  providing 
for  the  convention,  he  had  publicly  and  frankly  announced  his 
opinions  and  his  desire  that  Missouri  should  be  committed  to 
the  Southern  movement. 

While  the  canvass  preceding  the  election  of  the  members  of 
the  convention  may  not  have  been  so  conducted  elsewhere  in 
the  state,  it  immediately  assumed  in  St.  Louis  the  character  of 
a  struggle  between  the  "unconditional  Union  men"  on  the  one 
side  and  those  who  were  equally  as  determined  that  Missouri 
should  take  side  with  the  South  on  the  other.  The  Union  men 
had  certain  advantages  in  such  a  controversy,  especially  when 
it  was  so  suddenly  presented.  They  would  have  at  their  back, 
so  soon  as  Mr.  Lincoln  was  inaugurated,  the  power  of  the  national 
government,  and  already  had  the  aid  which  hopes  and  fears 
thus  excited  could  afford.  A  more  potent  factor  was  their 
attitude  as  the  advocates  of  established  conditions  and  apparent 
conservators  of  law  and  order.  They  could  appeal  to  all  who 
dreaded  change  and  uncertain  and,  perhaps  dangerous,  experi 
ment.  Many  who  believed  that  the  rights  of  the  Southern 
states  and  of  Missouri  were  menaced  by  the  policy  pro 
claimed  by  the  leaders  of  the  Republican  party  nevertheless 
shrank  from  the  idea  of  revolution  and  were  unwilling  to 
countenance  action  not  clearly  sanctioned  by  legal  authority. 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  35 

Sympathy  and  sentiment  inclined  them  in  one  direction;  mental 
habit  and  fear  of  the  unknown  and  untried  held  them  to  the 
existing  status. 

No  matter  what  provocation  might  be  given  they  could  not 
consent  to  break  the  peace.  Even  the  leaders  of  that  element 
which  had  reached  the  conclusion  that  Missouri  should  join  her 
Southern  sisters  and  that  the  convention  ought  so  to  declare, 
were  affected  by  this  predisposition.  With  the  exception  of 
Governor  Jackson  and  a  very  few  others,  they  hesitated  to 
adopt  the  only  policy  which  could  accomplish  their  wishes. 
"Willing  to  wound,"  they  were  yet  "afraid  to  strike."  Only 
those  whose  youth  and  lack  of  influence  precluded  their  leader 
ship  eagerly  counselled  and  prepared  to  attempt  the  sort  of 
action  which  might  achieve  success. 

In  the  unconditional  Union  ranks  were  many  men  of  ability, 
whose  opinions  and  example  had  great  weight  in  the  community, 
but  two  men  dominated  their  councils  and  controlled  their 
conduct.  These  were  Francis  P.  Blair,  the  acknowledged 
leader  of  the  Republican  party  of  Missouri,  and  Capt.  Nathaniel 
Lyon,  of  the  regular  army,  who  had  been  recently  ordered  to 
duty  at  St.  Louis.  Lyon  was,  in  his  own  way,  a  man  of  as  much 
capacity  as  Blair,  fully  as  energetic,  and  as  quick  to  decide  and 
execute,  with  a  will  as  strong  but  even  more  relentless;  and 
absolutely  fanatical  and  indifferent  concerning  the  means  he 
employed  to  accomplish  what  he  deemed  a  proper  end. 

Blair,  recognizing  from  the  first  that  the  political  situation 
must  be  eventually  determined  by  the  strong  hand  and  by  force, 
had  early  gone  to  work  to  organize  a  military  body  similar  in 
many  respects  to  the  state  guard,  but  over  which  the  state 
authorities  should  have  no  control;  which  should,  indeed,  if  the 
occasion  arose,  set  at  defiance  the  authority  of  the  state 
government. 

Lyon,  thoroughly  in  accord  with  such  a  plan,  gave  it  his  hearty 
support,  and  aided  to  make  this  body  more  efficient  in  drill  and 
equipment.  It  was  composed  principally  of  Germans.  It 
numbered  originally  about  eight  hundred  men,  and  took  the 
name  of  the  "wide-awakes."  It  subsequently  grew  to  be  several 
thousand  strong.  This  force  was  the  more  readily  recruited 
and  organized,  because  contributions  of  money  for  that  purpose 


36  REMINISCENCES  OF 

were  liberally  furnished  in  St.  Louis  and  probably  from  the  East, 
and  Lyon  promised  to  provide,  and  ultimately  did  provide 
it  with  arms  from  the  St.  Louis  arsenal. 

It  is  almost  impossible  to  estimate  how  vastly  the  chances  of 
Southern  success  would  have  been  augmented  had  Missouri 
been  permitted  to  take  her  place  in  the  Southern  column.  I 
was  convinced  then,  and  believe  now,  that  it  would  have  elimi 
nated  all  danger  of  failure.  Her  warlike  population,  which 
could  so  readily  and  promptly  be  converted  into  an  efficient 
soldiery,  would  have,  in  that  event,  furnished  a  much  larger  and 
more  formidable  contingent  to  the  Confederate  cause  than  it 
did;  while  the  number  furnished  the  Federal  army  would  have 
been  greatly  minimized.  The  strategic  situation  of  Missouri, 
so  to  speak,  as  part  of  the  Confederacy,  would  have  been  of  in 
calculable  advantage  as  an  obstacle  to  invasion  of  the  South 
along  some  of  the  lines  by  which  invasion  was  subsequently 
most  successfully  attempted.  Lying  along  the  flank  of  the 
Western  loyal  states,  and  occupied  by  adequate  Confederate 
forces,  she  would  have  so  threatened  Illinois  and  even  more 
eastern  territory  as  to  effectually  hinder  any  enterprise  which 
might  have  stripped  that  region  of  troops;  and  armies  would 
have  been  required  to  defend  it  against  the  invasions  made  from 
Missouri.  When  we  remember  what  efforts  the  Federals  were 
compelled  to  make  to  overrun  and  subjugate  Missouri  after  she 
had  been  practically  disarmed  and  shackled  by  her  own  people, 
we  can  form  some  idea  of  the  difficulties  that  would  have  been 
encountered  in  expelling  from  her  limits  the  hosts  they  would 
have  found  there,  had  she,  in  the  very  beginning,  been  enrolled 
as  a  Confederate  state.  Meanwhile  the  South,  so  far  exempt 
from  the  havoc  and  demoralization  of  warfare  on  her  own  soil, 
could  have  faced  her  foes  on  more  equal  terms  along  the  border. 
But  important  as  was  the  acquisition  of  Missouri  to  the  Con 
federacy,  the  .possession  of  St.  Louis  was  scarcely  less  so.  There 
were  in  the  city  abundant  supplies  of  all  kinds  necessary  to  the 
conduct  of  military  operations.  To  hold  St.  Louis  was  well-nigh 
equivalent  to  the  complete  control  of  the  immense  shipping  of  the 
great  river,  at  least  to  the  fleet  of  steam-boats  which  habitually 
harboured  there;  and  this  would  not  only  have  enabled  supplies 
to  be  distributed  to  all  points  of  the  South  where  they 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  37 

were  most  needed,  but  would  have  effectually  prevented  the 
occupation  and  control  of  the  lower  Mississippi  waters  by  the 
Federal  gunboats. 

But  if  the  possession  of  Missouri  and  the  city  of  St.  Louis 
was  important  to  ultimate  Confederate  success,  the  seizure  of  the 
St.  Louis  arsenal  was  a  matter  of  vital  and  immediate  necessity. 
That  arsenal  contained  sixty  thousand  stand  of  small  arms, 
thirty-five  or  forty  pieces  of  artillery,  and  a  vast  store  of 
ammunition  and  military  equipments.  'An  almost  invin 
cible  force  could  have  been  promptly  armed  from 
this  source,  and  such  a  force  would  have  been  at  once 
recruited;  for  with  the  capture  of  the  arsenal  by  the  se 
cessionists  all  doubt  and  vacillation  would  have  disappeared 
from  their  ranks.  It  would  have  assured  the  most  timid  and 
hesitant,  and  have  been  the  signal  for  an  instant  and  overwhelm 
ing  uprising,  both  in  St.  Louis  and  the  state,  in  behalf  of  the 
Southern  cause.  Such  an  evidence  of  purpose  and  of  capacity 
to  deal  practically  with  the  situation  would  have  settled  in  ad 
vance  the  questions  which  the  convention  had  been  called  to 
determine.  The  earnest  and  resolute  men  on  both  sides  thor 
oughly  realized  this,  and  to  seize  or  defend  the  arsenal  became 
the  watchwords  of  all  who  really  "meant  business." 

Unfortunately  for  the  hopes  of  the  Southern  men  in  St.  Louis, 
however  salutary  such  policy  may  have  proven  for  the  future 
of  the  country,  their  leaders  temporized.  They  admitted  the 
extreme  importance  of  capturing  the  arsenal,  but  insisted  that 
it  ought  not  to  be  attempted  until  after  the  convention  had 
acted.  This  counsel  seemed  fatuous  to  the  younger  men, 
who  thought  that  something  should  be  done  to  influence  the 
election  of  the  delegates  and  the  decision  of  the  convention,  and 
believed  that,  as  matters  were  being  handled,  the  game  was 
going  against  them.  They  resolved,  therefore,  to  make  an  or 
ganization  of  their  own,  with  a  view  to  prompt  and  decisive 
measures,  and  also  as  an  offset  to  Blair's  "Wide  Awakes,"  who 
soon  became  exceedingly  insolent  and  aggressive.  This  move 
ment  was  inaugurated,  as  I  remember,  by  Colton  Greene,  James 
R.  Shaler,  Rock  Champion,  Overton  W.  Barrett,  Samuel  Far- 
rington,  James  Quinlan,  Arthur  McCoy,  and  myself.  Greene 
was  subsequently  a  brigadier-general  in  the  Confederate  service. 


38  REMINISCENCES  OF 

Shaler  was  one  of  the  bravest  and  most  efficient  colonels  whom 
Missouri  gave  to  the  South.  Barrett  served  gallantly  and  with 
distinction,  and  Champion,  Farrington,  and  McCoy,  after  win 
ning  the  highest  reputation  for  courage  and  fidelity,  died  under 
the  Southern  flag. 

This  organization  was  designated  the  "Minute  Men,"  and 
was  of  a  semi-political  and  military  character.  We  made  no 
secret  of  the  organization  or  of  our  purpose,  but  openly  pro 
claimed  both.  It  grew  to  be  about  four  hundred  strong,  and 
was  divided  into  five  companies,  commanded  by  Greene, 
Shaler,  Barrett,  Hubbard,  and  myself,  which  subsequently  com 
posed  a  battalion  of  the  state  guard,  of  which  Shaler  was 
elected  major.  The  chief  and  primary  object  of  this  organiza 
tion  was  the  capture  of  the  arsenal.  We  were  handicapped, 
however,  not  only  by  the  scruples  and  remonstrances  of  the 
older  and  more  conservative  men,  but  by  the  difficulty  of  pro 
curing  arms.  The  muster-roll  of  the  Minute  Men  could  have 
been  increased  to  a  much  larger  number,  but  we  wished  to 
enlist  only  the  kind  of  material  which  could  be  relied  on  for 
any  service  and  in  any  emergency,  and  no  more  than  we  could 
arm  in  some  fashion.  We  had  no  funds  with  which  to  purchase 
arms,  and  those  fitted  for  the  use  of  soldiers  were  not  to  be  easily 
gotten  even  with  money.  During  February  we  secured  some 
sixty  or  seventy  old  muskets,  but  armed  the  greater  number 
with  revolvers  and  shot-guns,  which  were  indeed  better  weapons 
for  street  fighting. 

No  opportunity  for  such  demonstration  as  we  wished  to  make 
was  afforded  until  the  convention,  having  first  assembled  at 
Jefferson  City,  adjourned  to  meet  in  St.  Louis  on  the  4th  of 
March.  We  resolved  to  utilize  that  occasion  in  such  wise  as 
to  bring  matters,  if  possible,  to  a  crisis  and  incite  the  popular 
outbreak  during  which  we  might  find  means  to  execute  our  proj 
ect.  We  wished  also  to  act  before  the  Republican  national 
administration  —  just  about  to  be  inaugurated  —  might  interfere. 

The  measures  taken  seem  almost  ludicrous  in  the  narration, 
but  they  were  the  only  kind  we  could  employ,  and  were  really 
better  calculated,  in  the  then  excited  condition  of  the  public 
mind,  than  any  others  to  precipitate  the  collision  we  desired 
without  becoming  ourselves  actually  the  aggressors.  By  virtue 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  39 

of  my  position  as  chairman  of  the  "Military  Committee  of  the 
Minute  Men,"  I  had  charge  of  the  headquarters,  which  were 
established  in  the  old  Berthold  mansion,  one  of  the  early  Creole 
houses  of  St.  Louis ;  I  was  also  empowered  —  so  far  as  the  Minute 
Men  could  give  me  authority  —  to  inaugurate  and  direct  such 
enterprises  as  that  which  I  am  about  to  describe.  I  called  the 
committee  together  on  the  night  of  the  3d  of  March,  and,  after 
a  brief  consultation,  we  decided  to  display  on  the  succeeding 
day  such  unmistakable  symbols  of  secession  and  evidence  of  an 
actively  rebellious  disposition  as  would  be  a  plain  defiance  to 
the  Union  sentiment  and  challenge  to  the  Wide  Awakes.  We 
accordingly  improvised  two  secession  flags.  The  South  had  not 
then  adopted  a  banner,  so  we  were  obliged  to  exercise  our  imagi 
nations  to  a  rather  painful  extent  in  order  to  devise  a  fit  emblem. 
We  knew,  however,  that  nothing  which  floated  over  the  Minute 
Men's  headquarters  could  be  possibly  misconstrued,  and  we 
blazoned  on  both  flags  every  conceivable  thing  that  was  sug 
gestive  of  a  Southern  meaning.  Champion  and  Quinlan 
undertook  to  place  one  of  these  flags  on  the  very  summit  of  the 
court-house  dome,  and  did  so  at  great  risk  to  neck  and  limb. 
The  other  was  hung  out  from  the  front  porch  of  the  headquarters. 

I  summoned  fifty  or  sixty  of  our  most  determined  and  reckless 
followers,  put  the  muskets  in  their  hands  —  they  were  also  pro 
vided  with  revolvers  —  and  told  them  they  would  be  required 
to  remain  on  duty  not  only  that  night,  but  as  long  as  might  be 
necessary.  They  were  more  than  willing  to  do  so.  I,  of  course, 
stayed  with  them  in  command.  Among  other  implements  of 
defence,  we  had  a  small  swivel,  which,  loaded  with  a  number 
of  musket  balls  and  a  double  handful  of  ten-penny  nails,  was 
planted  to  command  the  front  door,  and  was  to  be  fired  only 
in  event  that  the  door  was  forced.  Early  the  next  morning, 
when  our  ensigns  were  observed,  an  extraordinary  commotion 
began  in  the  immediate  neighbourhood  and  soon  extended  over 
the  entire  city.  The  flag  on  the  court-house  was  at  once  removed. 
We  had  expected  this  and  could  not  have  prevented  it. 

Then  a  large  and  angry  crowd  collected  in  front  of  the  head 
quarters  and  demanded  the  removal  of  the  flag  there.  When 
no  response  was  made,  some  of  the  boldest  climbed  up  on  the 
porch  with  threats  of  tearing  it  down.  They  were  thrown  back 


40  REMINISCENCES  OF 

on  the  pavement  beneath,  but  none  were  seriously  injured, 
although  much  discouraged.  I  cautioned  my  men  not  to  fire 
unless  they  themselves  were  fired  on. 

The  Wide  Awakes  sprang  to  arms,  but  showed  no  haste  to 
attack.  We  received  notice  that  they  had  assembled  and  formed 
and  were  coming.  Their  drums  were  loudly  in  evidence.  While 
unwilling  to  fire  on  the  mob  without  the  amplest  provocation,  we 
were  determined  to  fire  on  the  Wide  Awakes  so  soon  as  they 
were  in  sight;  for  after  the  repeated  threats  they  had  uttered,  their 
appearance  at  such  a  time  would  have  been  an  unmistakable 
demonstration  of  hostility.  Frost's  brigade  of  state  militia, 
as  fine  a  body  of  the  kind  as  I  ever  saw  and  exceedingly  well 
armed,  drilled,  and  disciplined,  was  ordered  under  arms  to  assist 
the  police  in  keeping  the  peace.  This  force  was  about  seven 
hundred  strong,  and  would  have  cheerfully  sided  with  us  had 
the  Wide  Awakes  and  the  mob  attacked.  With  such  other  aid 
as  would  have  been  rendered  under  the  excitement  of 
conflict,  we  could  certainly  have  taken  the  arsenal  in  the  melee 
and  before  the  affair  ended. 

General  Frost  came  to  the  headquarters  and  said  that  he 
thought  we  had  been  imprudent,  but  that  he  would  advise  no 
concession  to  the  demands  of  the  mob.  He  also  said  that  the 
militia  would  endeavour  to  keep  the  peace  and  prevent  aggression 
by  either  side.  Soon  afterward  I  was  visited  by  a  deputation 
composed  of  the  Hon.  O.  D.  Filley,  the  mayor,  Col.  Samuel 
Churchill,  and  Messrs.  Thomas  S.  Snead,  James  Lucas,  and 
Ferdinand  Kennett.  I  knew  these  gentlemen  well  and  held 
them  in  the  highest  respect,  as  did  all  the  community.  Mr. 
Snead,  afterward  chief  of  staff  to  General  Price,  and  Colonel 
Churchill  did  not  seem  to  be  especially  desirous  that  the  flag 
should  be  removed,  although  they  advised  it.  Mr.  Kennett, 
perhaps  to  the  surprise  of  his  colleagues,  offered  what  might  have 
been  termed  a  minority  report,  or  dissenting  opinion.  "Duke," 
he  said,  "I  rather  think  you  acted  like  a  fool  when  you  hung  out 
that  flag,  but  you'll  act  like  a  coward  if  you  take  it  down." 
The  mayor  and  Mr.  Lucas  very  earnestly  requested  me  to  have 
it  taken  down.  They  called  my  attention,  although  I  had 
already  observed  it,  to  the  violent  excitement  and  resentment 
which  its  display  had  occasioned,  urged  that  the  feelings  of  the 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  41 

Union  men  ought  to  be  respected,  and  that  nothing  should  be 
done,  during  a  period  of  such  political  passion,  to  offend  or  anger 
any  class  of  citizens.  I  temperately  and  respectfully  repre 
sented  that  the  Union  men  ought  not  to  be  so  sensitive.  I 
pointed  out  that  a  convention  was,  at  that  very  hour,  sitting 
in  St.  Louis  to  discuss  and  decide  whether  Missouri  should  remain 
in  the  Union  or  secede.  I  suggested  that  the  question,  therefore, 
was  one  on  which  a  citizen  had  a  right  to  take  either  side; 
and  that  each  side  had  an  equal  right  to  exhibit  its  insignia, 
and  in  any  way  or  by  any  device  define  its  contention. 
"There  is  not  a  man  among  us,  Mr.  Mayor,"  I  said,  "who  would 
think  of  protesting  against  the  display  of  the  stars  and 
stripes;  why,  therefore,  should  the  Union  men  object  to  our 
floating  a  Southern  banner?" 

He  said  he  couldn't  explain  it,  but  that  the  Union  men  cer 
tainly  were  objecting,  and  that  he  would  be  greatly  pleased  if  I 
would  remove  the  objection  and  permit  the  crowd,  which  was 
constantly  growing  larger  and  more  noisy,  to  disperse.  Cham 
pion  then  suggested  that  the  mayor  should  call  on  his  fire  de 
partment  and  turn  out  the  engines  to  throw  water  on  the  crowd, 
which  he,  Champion,  thought  would  certainly  cause  it  to  disperse; 
but  for  some  reason  the  mayor  would  not  consent  to  do  that. 
I  finally  said  that  I  would  very  gladly  do  ^anything  —  except 
the  specific  thing  asked  —  to  help  him  allay  the  tumult,  and 
suggested  that  if  he  or  Mr.  Lucas  would  make  a  speech  to  the 
crowd  much  might  be  accomplished.  Mr.  Lucas  accordingly 
climbed  into  a  small  donkey  cart  belonging  to  an  Italian  fruit 
seller,  which  had  somehow  become  wedged  into  the  press,  and 
began  an  impressive  address,  imploring  the  people  to  be  calm 
and  to  go  home.  But  the  donkey,  suddenly  taking  fright 
either  at  the  eloquence  of  the  orator  or  at  the  shouts  of  the  crowd, 
kicked  and  plunged  violently  and  tried  to  run  away,  so  that  Mr. 
Lucas  was  prevented  from  fully  presenting  his  case. 

Several  abortive  rushes  were  afterward  made  by  the  mob, 
and  one  or  two  more  serious  demonstrations,  easily  repulsed, 
however,  and  with  little  damage  to  either  faction;  and  then  our 
friends  began  to  rapidly  assemble.  After  some  rough  and 
tumble  fighting  in  the  streets  it  became  apparent  that  our 
side  was  the  stronger. 


42  REMINISCENCES  OF 

But  the  opportunity  we  had  hoped  and  striven  for  did  not 
occur;  and  we  could  not  afford  to  attack  the  arsenal  without 
having  been  ourselves  assailed.  Our  instructions  were  explicit 
to  commit  no  aggressive  act.  On  more  than  one  other  occasion 
it  became  manifest  that  in  the  event  of  actual  collision  the 
Southern  sentiment  would  be  thoroughly  aroused  and  would 
predominate;  but  as  time  wore  on  our  opponents  made  more 
complete  preparation,  while  we  made  little,  if  any. 

This  fatal  policy  of  irresolution  and  delay  continued  until  Mr. 
Lincoln  issued  his  proclamation  calling  for  troops  to  suppress  the 
rebellion;  and  although  our  people  were  then,  at  last,  awakened, 
it  was  too  late  to  recover  from  the  effects  of  previous  procras 
tination.  The  legislature  was  in  session  during  the  greater  part 
of  the  winter, ,  and  until  March  28th,  but  although  strongly 
Southern  in  feeling  and  composition,  it  was  affected  by  the 
same  indecision  and  lethargy  which  had  paralyzed  our  efforts 
in  St.  Louis.  It  passed  high-sounding  resolutions,  but  did  little 
else,  and  even  refused  to  permit  the  governor  to  call  out  the 
militia.  Bills  were  introduced  providing  for  the  better  organi 
zation  and  armament  of  the  state  guard,  but  were  not  pressed 
to  passage.  On  March  23d,  however,  a  bill  was  passed  to  create 
a  Board  of  Police  Commissioners  for  St.  Louis,  by  which  the 
control  of  the  police  force  was  taken  from  the  mayor,  who  was 
a  Republican.  It  authorized  the  governor  to  appoint  four 
commissioners,  who,  with  the  mayor  —  ex  ofEcio  a  member 
of  the  board  —  should  have  absolute  control  of  the  police  of  the 
city,  of  the  sheriff's  officers  and  of  all  conservators  of  the  peace, 
both  in  the  city  and  county.  The  passage  of  this  bill  two  months 
earlier  might  have  shaped  the  political  situation  very  differently; 
but  at  so  late  a  date  it  had  little  effect. 

When  it  became  a  law  the  governor  appointed  as  commis 
sioners:  Charles  McLaren,  John  A.  Brownlee,  James  H.  Carlisle, 
and  myself.  All  were  Southern  in  sentiment.  My  appointment 
was  severely  censured,  ostensibly  because  of  my  youth,  but 
really  because  of  my  connection  with  the  Minute  Men,  which 
made  it  peculiarly  offensive  to  Unionists  of  all  shades  of  opinions. 
I  had  not  asked  the  position,  and,  telling  the  governor  that  I  did 
not  wish  him  to  be  criticised  on  my  account,  requested  him  to 
appoint  some  one  else.  He  answered  that  he  did  not  care  a 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  43. 

cent  for  the  criticism,  and  that  if  I  didn't  accept  he  would  leave 
the  place  vacant. 

It  finally  became  apparent  that  the  Southern  party  must 
either  adopt  and  promptly  execute  decisive  and  practically 
effective  measures,  or  publicly  abandon  all  purpose  or  pretence 
of  maintaining  the  authority  of  the  state  in  matters  wherein 
Blair  and  Lyon  had  determined  to  interfere.  Before  the  capture 
of  Fort  Sumter  by  the  Confederates  and  Mr.  Lincoln's  call  for 
troops  to  suppress  the  rebellion,  Governor  Jackson  made  up 
his  mind  that  the  seizure  of  the  arsenal  should  be  attempted 
at  the  earliest  possible  date.  During  all  this  delay,  however, 
the  garrison  of  the  arsenal  had  been  considerably  strengthened, 
and  the  number  of  the  Wide  Awakes  very  greatly  increased. 
Lyon's  efforts  had  also  resulted  in  their  better  organization 
and  in  furnishing  them  with  excellent  rifles  issued  from  the 
arsenal.  The  Union  leaders  estimated  that  they  could,  at 
this  date,  put  six  or  seven  thousand  well-armed  and  equipped 
troops  in  the  field,  as  against  less  than  one  thousand  two 
hundred  on  the  other  side. 

Governor  Jackson  had  never  been  a  soldier,  and  was  totally 
devoid  of  military  experience.  He  relied  for  advice  in  such 
matters  on  General  Frost,  who  was  a  graduate  of  West  Point, 
and  had  served  for  several  years  in  the  regular  army.  General 
Frost  was  well  versed  in  his  profession,  had  much  technical  knowl 
edge,  and  was  undoubtedly  a  man  of  personal  courage.  He 
advised  a  course,  however,  which,  under  the  circumstances,  ren 
dered  success  almost  impossible.  Although  he  must  have  known 
that  he  could  not  possibly  muster  an  armed  and  organized  force 
one  fifth  as  strong  as  that  which  would  oppose  him,  he  advised 
the  governor  to  order  a  formal  encampment  of  the  state  guard 
in  the  environs  of  St.  Louis,  send  South  for  heavy  guns,  and  pro 
ceed  to  attempt  the  capture  of  the  arsenal  by  slow  and  regular 
approaches;  by  siege  operations,  indeed.  It  seems  almost 
incredible  that  any  one  could  have  supposed  it  to  be  possible 
to  capture  the  arsenal,  defended  as  it  was,  and  considering  the 
disparity  of  forces,  except  by  a  sudden  coup  de  main,  and  unex 
pected  reckless  rush.  Yet  the  plan  I  have  described  was  the 
one  resolved  on.  The  governor,  therefore,  directed  that 
the  state  guard  should  assemble  on  May  3d  at  a  designated 


44  REMINISCENCES  OF 

spot  near  the  city  limits  and  remain  in  encampment  for  a 
week.  He  despatched  Capt.  Cotton  Greene  and  myself  to 
Montgomery,  Ala.,  with  letters  to  President  Davis  requesting 
him  to  furnish  us  with  the  sort  of  cannon  described  in  another 
paper  prepared  by  General  Frost. 

Such  action,  when  he  had  men  like  Blair  and  Lyon  to  deal 
with,  was  almost  equivalent  to  a  specific  declaration  not  only 
of  his  plan,  but  of  how  he  was  going  to  execute  it.  This  ostenta 
tious  assemblage  of  the  state  guard  at  St.  Louis  could  mean 
only  one  purpose;  and  while  the  mission  on  which  Greene 
and  I  were  sent  was,  of 'course,  intended  to  be  kept  secret,  our 
very  absence,  at  such  a  time,  was  certain  to  excite  suspicion 
and  inquiry. 

We  started  on  April  6th  and  proceeded  via  Cairo  to  Memphis, 
thence  via  Chattanooga  to  Montgomery.  I  remember  that 
as  we  stood  on  the  platform  at  Corinth,  where  our  train  had 
stopped  for  a  few  minutes,  and  gazed  on  the  dense  forest  and 
thick  undergrowth  which  fringed  the  railroad  —  it  has  since 
been  almost  entirely  cleared  away  —  I  remarked,  "If  we  ever 
get  the  Yankees  down  here,  we'll  pepper  them."  "If  the  Yankees 
ever  get  this  far  down,"  responded  Greene,  "we  may  as  well 
quit."  Neither  of  us  had  the  faintest  premonition  of  the  future. 
In  less  than  one  year  from  that  date  I  passed  in  the  immediate 
vicinity  of  Corinth,  en  route  to  the  field  of  Shiloh,  and  the  war 
lasted  three  years  longer. 

When  we  reached  Montgomery  we  sent  our  credentials  to 
President  Davis  and  he  received  us  at  a  meeting  of  his  cabinet. 
We  were  questioned  very  closely  about  the  conditions  in 
St.  Louis  and  Missouri,  but  only  Mr.  Benjamin,  who,  if  I 
remember  correctly,  was  then  secretary  of  war,  seemed  to  consider 
the  matter  serious  or  at  all  difficult.  The  others  were  inclined 
to  entertain  a  roseate  view  of  the  situation,  not  only  in  our 
region,  but  everywhere  else.  The  President  very  cheerfully 
granted  Governor  Jackson's  request,  and  gave  us  an  order  on 
the  commandant  of  the  arsenal  at  Baton  Rouge  for  the  guns 
specified  in  the  list  prepared  by  General  Frost.  We  proceeded 
immediately  to  New  Orleans,  and  then  to  Baton  Rouge.  I 
shall  never  forget  the  scenes  I  witnessed  in  Louisiana  while  on 
that  mission.  Every  one  anticipated  war  but  believed  it  would 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  45 

be  brief,  and  there  seemed  to  be  a  universal  feeling  of  confi 
dence  and  elation.  A  great  number  of  military  companies  had 
been  recruited,  but  regimental  and  brigade  organizations  had 
not  yet  been  completed,  and  each  company  wore  its  own  pe 
culiar  garb.  The  streets  of  New  Orleans  were  thronged  during 
the  day  and  the  theatres  crowded  at  night  with  a  multitude  of 
young  fellows  clad  in  an  infinite  variety  of  brilliant  uniforms; 
and  as  we  ascended  the  river  to  Baton  Rouge  we  could  see  every 
where  along  the  coast  squads  of  volunteers  drilling  among  the 
orange  trees.  The  first  sight  that  met  our  eyes,  when  we  landed 
at  Baton  Rouge,  was  a  company  of  "chasseurs"  habited  in  vivid 
green,  no  member  of  which  spoke  English  or  appeared  to  care 
a  continental  what  was  going  to  happen. 

Having  procured,  on  our  order  to  the  commandant  of  the 
arsenal,  two  twelve-pound  howitzers,  two  thirty-two  pound 
siege  guns,  some  five  hundred  muskets,  and  a  quantity  of  am 
munition,  we  returned  to  New  Orleans  to  make  arrangements  for 
their  transportation  to  St.  Louis,  and  for  that  purpose  chartered 
the  steam-boat  Swan.  The  guns  and  ammunition,  packed  in 
such  wise  as  to  conceal,  as  much  as  possible  their  real  character, 
were  taken  on  at  Baton  Rouge.  Greene  took  charge  of  the 
boat,  while  I  went  in  advance  by  rail  to  Cairo,  which  in  the  mean 
time  had  been  occupied  by  Federal  troops,  to  reconnoitre  and 
ascertain  what  would  be  the  danger  of  detection  or  delay.  I 
found  a  large  force  of  soldiers  at  Cairo;  but  they  were  not  so 
vigilant  or  suspicious  of  visitors  within  their  lines  as  the  troops 
on  both  sides  became  at  a  later  period.  An  incident  happened 
immediately  upon  my  arrival  which  I  found  at  the  moment 
only  amusing,  but  had  reason  afterward  to  consider  fortunate. 

The  first  man  I  saw  as  I  stepped  into  the  hotel  was  a  particular 
friend  from  St.  Louis  —  Mr.  James  Casey  —  one  of  the  truest, 
warmest-hearted  men  I  ever  knew.  He  was  a  brother-in-law, 
by  the  way,  of  Gen.  Ulysses  Grant.  Grant,  when  President, 
appointed  him  Surveyor  of  the  Port  at  New  Orleans,  but  at  this 
date  "Jim"  was  a  strong  secessionist.  His  look  of  amazement 
and  dismay,  when  he  caught  sight  of  me,  was  almost  too  much 
for  my  gravity.  Although  I  knew  him  to  be  both  shrewd  and 
cautious,  I  was  apprehensive  that  he  might  say  something 
imprudent;  so  I  approached  him  and  said:  "You  don't 


46  REMINISCENCES  OF 

remember  me,  Mr.  Casey,  but  I  am  John  White.  I  live  in  your 
native  town  in  Union  County,  Kentucky."  ''I'm  very  glad 
to  see  you,  Mr.  White,"  he  responded.  "Come  up  stairs  to  my 
room."  We  went  to  his  room;  he  locked  the  door  and  asked 
me  why  in  the  name  of  heaven  I  had  come  to  Cairo.  He  said 
that  the  rumour  was  current  in  St.  Louis  that  Greene  and  I  had 
gone  South  on  some  embassy,  and  that  Blair  would  be  on  the 
lookout  for  us.  "Well,"  I  said  "he  won't  be  looking  for  me  here." 
Casey  replied  that  among  the  officers  in  Cairo  were  a  number  of 
St.  Louisiana,  some  of  whom  would  probably  recognize  me. 
I  said  I  would  get  away  as  soon  as  possible,  but  must  first  ascer 
tain  what  sort  of  inspection  was  made  of  north-bound  boats, 
and  also  write  or  telegraph  Frost.  "You  will  be  arrested," 
he  said,  "if  you  either  attempt  to  write  or  wire."  "Then  you 
must  send  a  letter  for  me,"  I  said.  He  assured  me  that  he  would 
do  so,  by  a  friend  who  was  a  river  pilot  just  about  to  leave 
for  St.  Louis.  I  subsequently  learned  that  the  letter  was  duly 
delivered.  I  then  went  to  the  wharf-boat  and  witnessed  an 
inspection  of  one  or  two  cargoes.  The  careless  and  imperfect 
manner  in  which  it  was  conducted  convinced  me  that  there 
would  be  little  risk  of  detection,  and  that  the  Swan  and  her 
freight  could  pass  in  safety. 

I  therefore  promptly  departed  for  New  Madrid,  the  point 
at  which  it  had  been  agreed  that  I  should  meet  the  Swan  as  she 
came  up  the  river.  Here  I  came  near  being  involved  in  quite 
serious  trouble.  I  had  to  remain  at  this  little  place  two  or 
three  days  before  the  boat  arrived,  and  was,  of  course,  the 
object  of  much  curiosity,  as  a  stranger  always  is  in  a  very  small 
town.  I  did  not  realize,  as  I  should  have  done,  the  importance 
of  returning  consistent  answers  to  the  questions  propounded 
me,  but  whenever  any  one  expressed  a  desire  to  know  my  reason 
for  coming,  I  gave  an  explanation,  the  first  that  came  to  me, 
ingenious  enough,  perhaps,  but  generally  totally  at  variance 
with  other  responses.  Indeed,  discretion  is  something  which  the 
majority  of  mankind  only  acquire  by  experience.  I  subse 
quently  had  occasion  to  regret  very  much  my  lack  of  caution  and 
fertility  of  invention. 

On  the  second  night  that  I  was  at  New  Madrid,  fearing 
that  the  Swan  might  arrive  during  the  night  and  that  I  might 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  47 

fail  to  learn  it,  I  concluded  to  change  my  quarters  from. the  small 
hotel  at  which  I  had  stopped,  to  the  wharf-boat.  I  should 
say  in  explanation,  that  in  ante-bellum  days,  old,  dismantled 
steam-boats  were  frequently  used  as  wharf-boats  and  the  former 
state-rooms  were  rudely  fitted  up  for  the  accommodation  of 
guests,  although  meals  were  not  furnished.  Quite  a  large  old 
boat  was  used  for  this  purpose  at  New  Madrid  at  the  date  that 
I  made  this  visit.  1  engaged  one  of  the  state-rooms  and,  in 
structing  the  wharf  master  to  awaken  me  if  the  Swan  came, 
slipped  off  my  coat  and  shoes  and  laid  down.  I  could  not, 
however,  go  to  sleep,  and  was  pleased  when  a  man  came  to  my 
room  about  ten  o'clock.  He  said  that  some  of  my  acquaintances 
were  in  the  bar-room  and  wished  to  see  me.  I,  of  course,  sus 
pected  no  danger,  and  immediately  arose,  put  on  my  shoes,  and 
leaving  my  revolver  where  I  had  placed  it,  under  the  pillow, 
proceeded  to  join  my  friends,  as  I  supposed  them  to  be.  When 
I  passed  the  door  which  opened  from  the  saloon  into  the  bar 
room  I  saw  a  man  standing  by  it  with  a  cocked  pistol  in  his 
hand.  Glancing  toward  the  other  door  I  saw  a  man,  similarly 
armed,  there  also. 

I  at  once  realized  that  I  was  in  the  hands  of  a  vigilance  com 
mittee  and,  in  the  phrase  of  that  day,  "suspected  of  being  a 
suspicious  character."  It  was  by  no  means  a  pleasant  situation; 
my  hair  bristled  and  I  was  fairly  chilled.  It  was  fortunate, 
perhaps,  that  I  had  left  my  revolver  in  the  state-room,  for  in 
the  excitement  and  consternation  I  felt,  I  might  have  attempted 
to  use  it,  in  which  event  I  would  certainly  have  been  killed. 
The  committee,  six  or  seven  in  number,  were  seated  just  in 
front  of  the  bar.  I  was  not  invited  to  take  a  seat  and 
remained  standing. 

There  was  perfect  silence  for  perhaps  a  minute,  by  which  time 
I  had  recovered  my  composure. 

"  I  understand,  gentlemen,"  I  said,  that  you  sent  for  me  to  pass 
a  social  evening  with  you,  but  you  evidently  had  some  other  rea 
son.  I  shall  be  glad  to  know  what  you  wish  and  your  purpose." 

The  chairman  was  an  elderly  man,  rather  deaf.  I  heartily 
wished  before  he  stopped  talking  that  he  had  been  born  dumb. 

"Mr.  Duke,"  he  said,  "you  came  here  from  Cairo,  which  is 
occupied  by  Yankee  soldiers.  You  have  told  three  or  four 


48  REMINISCENCES  OF 

different  stories  to  account  for  your  presence  here,  and  they  can't 
all  be  true.  We  think  that  you  are  a  Yankee  spy,  and  if  we 
become  satisfied  that  you  are  one  we  are  going  to  hang  you." 

I  frankly  admitted  that  none  of  the  explanations  of  my  visit 
to  New  Madrid,  previously  given,  were  correct;  and  then  gave 
them  the  real  reason,  telling  them  of  the  instructions  I  had 
received  from  Governor  Jackson  and  how  far  they  had  already 
been  carried  into  effect. 

I  further  told  them  that  I  was  hourly  expecting  the  arrival 
of  the  Swan. 

"Now,  gentlemen,"  I  said,  "you  can  readily  understand  why 
in  previous  conversations  I  was  unwilling  to  make  this  statement. 
If  my  real  business  had  transpired  the  object  of  my  mission  might 
have  been  defeated.  I  would  not  be  thus  frank  with  you  now 
if  my  life  were  not  threatened,  and  also  if  I  did  not  believe 
you  to  be  Southern  men.  But  if  you  are  really  Southern  men, 
as  you  claim  to  be,  you  will  help  instead  of  hanging  me." 

The  chairman  remarked  that  this  was  very  pretty  talk,  but 
that  he  did  not  credit  a  word  of  it.  "A  fellow  will  say  almost 
anything  to  save  his  life,  and  you  acknowledge  that  you  have 
already  lied  to  us."  He  repeated  his  belief  that  I  was  a  spy. 

I  answered,  rather  indignantly,  that  there  was  nothing  at 
New  Madrid  to  invite  the  visit  of  a  spy.  "I  have  already 
told  you,"  I  said,  "that  the  Swan  will  soon  be  here.  You  know 
her  captain.  If  he  doesn't  verify  what  I  have  told  you,  why 
hang  me.  You  can  easily  guard  me  and  prevent  my  escape. 
Even  if  I  should  get  free  I  couldn't  reach  Cairo  if  you  tried  to 
prevent  me.  At  least  give  me  twenty-four  hours  to  prove  the 
truth  of  my  story.  If  the  Swan  does  not  reach  here  by  that  time, 
act  as  you  please." 

The  chairman  was  still  obdurate.  He  insisted  that  they  could 
not  afford  to  take  any  risk  and  that  I  ought  to  be  put  out  of 
the  way.  So  far  no  other  member  of  the  committee  had  uttered 
a  word,  but  all  had  remained,  in  appearance,  as  stolid  as  statues. 
Now,  however,  one  of  them  spoke  up  very  emphatically.  His 
name,  I  think,  was  Louis  Walters.  He  was  about  thirty  years 
of  age,  a  very  handsome  man,  and  six  feet  two  or  three  inches 
in  height.  During  my  brief  stay  in  the  town  I  had  seen  more 
of  him  than  of  any  one  else.  He  suddenly  sprang  to  his  feet, 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  49 

with  blazing  eyes  and  his  grip  on  a  revolver,  and  delivered  what 
I  thought  to  be  the  finest  speech  I  had  ever  heard.  "I  believe," 
he  said,  "everything  this  young  fellow  now  tells  us.  I  can 
perfectly  comprehend  why  he  at  first  attempted  to  deceive  us. 
He  would  have  been  a  fool  and  false  to  his  trust  if  he  had  dropped 
an  intimation  why  he  came  here  or  said  anything  which  might 
induce  suspicion  of  his  real  purpose.  At  any  rate,  it  would  be 
plain  murder  to  hang  a  man  who  offers  to  furnish,  in  a  few  hours, 
proof  of  his  innocence  —  evidence  which  we  will  be  compelled 
to  believe.  He  must  have  the  twenty-four  hours  he  asks,  and 
more,  if  necessary.  No  one  is  more  determined  than  myself 
to  execute  the  proper  work  of  this  committee,  but  before  you 
shall  hang  a  man  without  giving  him  a  chance  you  must 
first  kill  me." 

It  was  perhaps  imprudent  and  not  in  the  best  taste,  but  I 
could  not  refrain  from  expressing  my  hearty  approval  of  these 
remarks.  There  v/as  an  immediate  and  general  endorsement  — 
with  the  exception  of  the  chairman  —  of  the  position  taken  by 
Walters;  and  it  was  determined  that  I  should  be  kept  under 
guard,  but  treated  kindly,  pending  the  arrival  of  the  Swan. 
The  committee  remained  on  the  wharf-boat  about  an  hour  longer, 
but  that  time  was  devoted  to  convivial  enjoyment,  and  even 
the  chairman  tried  to  be  agreeable.  I  returned  to  my  quarters, 
but  the  two  men  who  had  acted  as  guards  while  my  examination 
was  being  conducted,  were  detailed  to  watch  each  door  of  the 
state-room.  They  remained  outside,  however,  in  order  not  to 
disturb  my  sleep. 

Early  next  morning  I  was  awakened  by  a  noisy  and  angry 
colloquy  going  on  in  the  saloon,  just  in  front  of  my  door.  Some 
one  was  fiercely  threatening  the  guard  for  refusing  him 
entrance  to  my  room.  I  thought  I  recognized  the  voice,  and 
on  looking  out,  found  that  I  was  not  mistaken.  The  angry 
man  was  Doctor  Leonard,  a  friend  of  mine,  who  lived  in  New 
Madrid,  but  frequently  visited  St.  Louis.  I  had  inquired  for 
him  immediately  on  reaching  the  place,  and  learned  that  he 
was  absent  on  professional  business.  He  was  also  a  member 
of  the  vigilance  committee,  and  having  gotten  home  that  morn 
ing,  was  told  what  had  been  done  with  me.  His  indignation  was 
extreme,  and  he  expressed  a  strong  desire  to  shoot  the  chairman, 


5o  REMINISCENCES  OF 

which  would  have  been,  of  course,  out  of  order.  He  started 
instantly  for  the  wharf-boat  to  offer  me  aid  and  consolation. 
I  was  very  glad  to  see  him,  but  had  some  difficulty  in  reducing 
him  to  a  quiet  state  of  mind  and  pacific  disposition.  He  said 

that  he  had    not   "helped   to  organize  the committee    for 

the  purpose  of  hanging  his  own  friends." 

I  finally  persuaded  him  not  to  attempt  my  rescue  by  force, 
but  to  propose  to  the  committee  that  I  should  be  released  upon 
his  becoming  responsible  for  my  return  to  custody  if  it  should 
be  necessary.  He  easily  effected  such  an  arrangement, 
and  I  was  permitted  to  go  at  large  in  his  company.  Late 
that  afternoon  the  Swan  arrived,  and  I  lost  no  time  in  getting 
aboard  of  her. 

•  The  Swan  had  already  lost  some  time,  and  her  captain  was 
determined  to  make  it  up,  appreciating  as  thoroughly  as  Greene 
and  I  did,  that  events  were  moving  too  rapidly  to  permit  of  his 
boat  going  slow.  He  entered  heartily  into  the  spirit  of  the 
enterprise,  for  he  was  a  gallant  man  and  his  sympathies  were 
cordially  with  us.  Even  the  crew,  although,  of  course,  not  in 
formed  of  the  nature  of  the  cargo  on  board;  and  the  necessity  of 
getting  it  to  port  as  speedily  as  possible,  seemed  to  realize  that 
something  unusual  was  to  be  done,  and  shared  our  excitement 
as  the  big  boat,  with  her  furnaces  crammed  full,  the  smoke  roaring 
out  of  her  funnels,  and  the  steam  hissing  and  snapping  from  her 
escape  pipes,  flew  along  at  a  racing  rate.  We  reached  Cairo 
about  ten  o'clock  at  night,  but  did  not  venture  to  run  past  with 
out  landing.  The  inspection,  as  I  had  anticipated,  was  careless, 
and  nothing  was  detected. 

We  reached  St.  Louis  on  the  morning  of  May  9th  and  turned 
over  the  guns  and  munitions  to  Major  Shaler,  sent  by  General 
Frost  to  receive  and  take  them  to  Camp  Jackson.  Blair  and 
Lyon  were  doubtless  almost  immediately  informed  in  some  way 
of  their  arrival  and  the  disposition  made  of  them,  for  the  latter 
promptly  prepared  to  seize  them. 

On  the  evening  of  the  9th  the  board  of  police  commissioners 
became  convinced,  by  a  report  of  the  chief  of  police,  that  a 
movement  against  the  camp  was  imminent.  The  chief  reported 
that  the  regiments  into  which  the  Wide  Awake  companies  had 
been  organized  were  mustering  at  their  respective  points  of 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  51 

rendezvous,  and  that  ammunition  had  been  distributed  to  them; 
also,  that  a  number  of  horses  had  been  taken  into  the  arsenal  for 
the  purpose,  he  thought,  of  moving  artillery.  I  went  to  the  camp 
that  night,  notified  General  Frost  of  this  information,  and  urged 
him  to  prepare  for  an  attack,  which  I  believed  would  be  delivered 
early  the  next  morning.  He,  however,  did  not  apprehend  such 
danger  or  was  unwilling  to  make  any  disposition  to  meet  it.  I 
saw  him  again  about  seven  o'clock  in  the  morning,  but  could  learn 
nothing  whatever  of  his  intentions.  As  my  rank  in  the  state 
guard  was  only  that  of  captain,  he  felt,  perhaps,  that  there  was 
no  reason  why  he  should  inform  me  of  his  plans.  But  I  was 
also  a  police  commissioner,  and  had  been  deputed  by  the  board 
to  confer  with  him  on  their  behalf.  I  soon  became  convinced 
that  he  had  not  decided  on  any  line  of  action. 

Greene  and  I,  therefore,  determined  to  proceed  at  once  to 
Jefferson  City,  whither  we  had  to  go,  at  any  rate,  to  make  our 
report  to  the  governor.  When  we  got  there,  we  procured  an 
interview  as  soon  as  possible  with  him,  taking  Mr.  Snead  and 
Colonel  Churchill,  who  was  state  senator  from  St.  Louis,  with 
us.  We  described  to  Governor  Jackson  the  situation,  as  we  un 
derstood  it,  and  ventured  to  express  the  opinion  that  .General 
Frost  ought  not  to  await  attack  in  his  camp,  but  that  he  ought 
either  to  assume  the  offensive  himself  or  retreat  to  some  point 
not  so  easy  of  reach  by  his  enemy.  While  we  were  discussing 
this  matter,  news  was  received  that  Lyon  had  delivered  his 
blow  and  that  Frost's  entire  command  had  been  surrendered. 

The  strength  of  the  state  guard  at  Camp  Jackson  was  not 
more  than  seven  or  eight  hundred  men,  and  it  was  attacked  by, 
perhaps,  seven  thousand.  It  probably  could  not  have  offered 
successful  resistance  after  it  was  surrounded,  but  it  was  not 
permitted  to  attempt  resistance.  As  the  prisoners  were  being 
marched  to  the  city,  their  captors,  angered  by  the  taunts  and 
reproaches  of  the  spectators,  fired  on  the  crowd,  killing  and 
wounding  twenty-eight  people. 

The  excitement  in  St.  Louis  was,  of  course,  intense,  and  it  was 
not  less  so  in  Jefferson  City.  The  legislature  was  in  special 
session,  the  governor  having  called  it  to  assemble  on  May  2d. 
When  it  heard  of  the  capture  of  Camp  Jackson  and  the  slaughter 
of  the  citizens,  it  passed  the  military  bill  and  other  measures 


52  REMINISCENCES  OF 

which  should  have  been  adopted  long  before.  A  rumour  came 
that  Blair  and  Lyon  were  marching  on  the  capital,  and  I  was 
sent  that  night  to  burn  the  bridge  over  the  Osage  River,  and 
Rock  Champion  to  burn  that  which  spanned  the  Gasconade. 
Champion  and  Farrington,  then  lieutenants  in  Shaler's  battalion 
—  composed  of  the  Minute  Men  —  had  been  sent  to  Jefferson 
City  a  few  days  previously  with  details  from  their  respective 
companies,  and  consequently,  like  Greene  and  myself,  escaped 
the  fate  of  our  comrades  at  Camp  Jackson.  During  the  follow 
ing  week  Captain  Joseph  Kelly  came  from  St.  Louis  with  his 
company  of  more  than  a  hundred  young  Irishmen.  It  was 
an  exceptionally  fine  body  of  men;  intelligent,  educated, 
spirited  young  fellows,  every  one  of  whom  held  an  excellent 
business  position  in  the  city.  Yet,  without  an  exception  or  the 
least  hesitation,  they  committed  themselves  to  the  cause,  and 
all,  save  those  who  fell  in  battle,  served  honourably  to  the  close 
of  the  war.  They  also,  by  some  good  fortune,  had  happened 
not  to  be  in  Camp  Jackson  when  it  was  taken. 

In  a  few  days  nearly  one  thousand  militia  were  assembled 
at  the  capital,  armed  generally  with  hunting  rifles.  The  greater 
part  of  them  were  encamped  in  the  fair  grounds  and  placed 
under  the  command  of  Captain  Kelly.  He  was  a  veteran  of  the 
English  army,  a  good  soldier,  and  a  brave  and  excellent  man.  I 
have  always  remembered  him  with  the  kindest  feeling,  not  only 
because  of  his  sterling  character,  but  because  he  gave  me  my 
first  lessons  in  discipline.  I  soon  had  cause  to  learn  that  he 
was  something  of  a  martinet,  and  would  brook  slackness  or  negli 
gence  in  none  about  him.  He  very  often  made  me  officer  of 
the  day,  and  required  me  to  accompany  him  every  night  in 
making  the  grand  rounds.  It  was  in  the  performance  of  this 
duty  that  I  had  occasion  to  note  particularly  and  somewhat 
nervously  the  kind  of  arms  with  which  the  militia  were 
provided;  for  every  sentry  would  cock  his  rifle,  set  the 
hair-trigger,  and  draw  a  bead  on  any  one  who  approached 
his  post.  This  was  quite  discouraging  to  me  and  other 
officers,  and  made  Kelly  very  angry.  We  anticipated  no 
attack  at  that  time,  and  enforced  strict  sentry  duty  merely 
as  a  matter  of  training.  The  men  grumbled  a  good  deal 
when  Captain  Kelly,  finding  it  impossible  altogether  to 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  53 

correct   this    unpleasant   habit,    at    length    required    them   to 
stand   guard   without   arms. 

Many  of  the  previously  "unconditional  Union"  men,  some  of 
them  very  prominent,  were  converted  into  implacable  secession 
ists  by  the  events  which  had  occurred  at  St.  Louis.  Most  con 
spicuous  among  them  was  Sterling  Price.  He  announced  his 
adherence  to  the  Southern  cause  and  tendered  his  services  to  the 
state  of  Missouri.  He  had  served  with  distinction  in  the  Mexi 
can  War,  and  Governor  Jackson  promptly  appointed  him  major- 
general  of  the  state  guard,  under  the  provisions  of  the  military 
bill,  which  gave  him  command  of  all  of  the  troops  which  Mis 
souri  might  put  into  the  field. 

General  Price's  record  in  the  Confederate  army  is  so  familiar 
to  his  countrymen  that  it  would  be  almost  presumptuous  in 
me  to  testify  to  its  excellence;  but  it  is  impossible  for  any  one 
who  knew  him  personally  to  mention  his  name  without  some 
tribute  to  his  exceeding  kindness  of  heart  and  grandeur  of 
character.  He  impressed  all  who  approached  him  with  the  con 
viction  that  he  was  a  good,  as  well  as  a  great,  man.  Col.  Thomas 
L.  Snead,  of  whom  I  have  more  than  once  spoken,  became,  as 
chief  of  staff  to  General  Price,  as  well  known  by  the  Missourians 
and  almost  as  much  beloved  as  his  commander.  His  faithful  and 
valuable  services  in  that  capacity  are  best  attested  by  the  deeds 
of  the  splendid  soldiery  in  whose  organization  and  training 
he  so  greatly  assisted.  Col.  Richard  T.  Morrison,  another 
personal  friend  of  mine,  at  that  time  in  Jefferson  City,  was  imme 
diately  placed  on  General  Price's  staff  and  served  with  him 
during  the  entire  war.  Colonel  Morrison  was  a  true  man  and  a 
delightful,  although,  sometimes  with  those  he  disliked,  a  rather 
dangerous  companion.  A  certain  haughty  grace  of  manner 
and  a  strain  of  reckless,  but  chivalric,  courage,  which  he  had 
frequently  displayed  in  the  duelling,  ante-bellum  days,  had 
earned  him  among  his  associates  the  sobriquet  of  "Athos," 
Dumas's  famous  mousquetaire. 

John  S.  Marmaduke,  who  rose  to  be  a  general  and  won  an 
excellent  reputation  in  the  Confederate  army,  and  who,  after 
the  close  of  the  war,  was  governor  of  Missouri,  had  resigned  his 
commission  in  the  old  army  and  had  come  to  Jefferson  City 
to  offer  his  sword  to  Missouri.  Richard  Weightman  and 


54  REMINISCENCES  OF 

Alexander  E.  Steen  were  there  with  the  same  purpose;  both  were 
brave  and  excellent  officers,  but  Weightman  was  killed  not 
long  afterward. 

Among  other  celebrities  there,  of  whom  I  saw  a  great  deal 
and  whose  society  I  much  enjoyed,  were  state  Senator  Thomas 
A.  Harris  and  the  irrepressible  M.  Jeff  Thompson.  Harris  was 
appointed  to  the  command  of  one  of  the  military  districts  into 
which  the  state  was  divided  under  the  military  bill,  with  the 
rank  of  brigadier-general.  Such  justice  has  been  done  his 
military  record  by  no  less  a  personage  than  General  Grant,  in 
the  latter's  own  memoirs,  that  I  need  not  enlarge  upon  it.  He 
did  not,  however,  remain  long  in  the  field,  but  served  Missouri 
even  more  efficiently  in  the  Confederate  congress.  Thompson 
was  also  appointed  brigadier-general  and  assigned  to  command. 
He  never  obtained  Confederate  rank,  I  believe,  but  served 
actively  and  efficiently  throughout  the  war.  Among  the  numer 
ous  visitors  attracted  to  Jefferson  City  at  that  period  and  who 
thronged  the  hotel  lobbies,  opinion  was  divided  as  to  which  of 
the  two,  General  Harris  or  General  Thompson,  was  the  more 
brilliant  and  instructive  conversationalist  or  greater  man. 

General  Thompson  was  inclined  to  believe  that  he  was. 
General  Harris  did  not  agree  with  him. 

The  Hon.  Nat  Claiborne,  one  of  the  most  effective  popular 
speakers  I  have  ever  heard,  was  then  a  member  of  the  Legisla 
ture  of  Missouri.  He  had  made  a  decided  hit  at  the  Charleston 
convention  by  a  speech  in  which  he  seconded  the  nomination'  of 
Douglas,  and  his  speeches  during  the  Presidential  canvass  which 
followed  were  exceptionally  eloquent.  My  own  high  opinion, 
however,  of  his  extraordinary  power  in  that  respect  was  in 
great  measure  induced  by  a  speech  which  he  made  directly  to 
me,  when  he  brought  me  the  order  to  burn  the  bridge  over  the 
Osage  River.  He  was  accompanied  by  two  or  three  other  legis 
lators,  and  all  were  full  of  fervid  patriotism  and  something 
else  equally  as  potent.  He  delivered  the  order  in  a  fiery  oration 
which  made  me  feel  as  if  I  would  like  to  burn  every  bridge  on 
the  continent. 

Two  other  men,  J.  Proctor  Knott  and  George  Vest,  occupied 
official  station  at  that  time  at  Jefferson  City,  and  were  exceed 
ingly  influential  in  shaping  events,  and  both  subsequently 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  55 

achieved  enviable  national  reputation.  Knott  was  the  attorney- 
general  of  Missouri,  and  Vest  was  a  state  senator.  Both  were 
comparatively  young,  scarcely  past  thirty,  but  were  already 
recognized  as  men  of  far  more  than  ordinary  capacity,  indeed, 
of  brilliant  talent. 

The  anticipations  then  formed  of  their  future  were  abun 
dantly  realized  after  the  close  of  the  war,  when  Knott  was  ranked 
by  common  consent  with  the  ablest  debaters  in  the  lower  house 
of  congress  and  Vest  was  admitted  to  be  one  of  the  foremost 
members  of  the  senate. 

Cotton  Greene,  my  colleague  in  the  mission  to  Montgomery, 
was  busily  employed  in  the  camps  as  drill  master  and  assistant 
in  the  organization  of  the  militia;  and  then  followed  General 
Price  and  Governor  Jackson  from  Jefferson  City  to  serve  gal 
lantly  to  the  close  of  the  war.  I  never  knew  a  better  man  or 
more  thorough  gentleman.  He  was  unusually  cultured  and 
intelligent,  and  was  the  soul  of  honour.  Our  friendship  con 
tinued  until  his  death,  and  I  shall  remember  it  with  pleasure 
while  I  live. 

But  it  was  fated  that  even  yet  there  should  be  delay  —  that 
hesitating  policy  which  was  always  so  harmful  to  the  South. 
Upon  the  advice  of  many  of  his  own  friends  and  at  the  invitation 
of  General  Harney,  the  Federal  commander  of  the  district, 
General  Price  consented  to  meet  Harney  at  St.  Louis  on  May 
2 1st,  with  the  view  of  coming  to  some  agreement  which  might 
prevent  armed  collision.  In  the  conference  which  ensued, 
General  Price  undertook  to  maintain  order  in  Missouri  on  condi 
tion  that  General  Harney  would  refrain  from  military  opera 
tions  within  the  limits  of  the  state.  General  Harney  was 
unquestionably  sincere  in  this  agreement,  and,  if  permitted,  would 
have  faithfully  observed  it.  This  agreement  was  undoubtedly 
a  grave  mistake  on  the  part  of  the  Southern  men,  for  the  slightest 
reflection  might  have  convinced  them  that  it  was  one  which  would 
not  be  maintained.  The  Federal  government,  having  deter 
mined  on  the  policy  of  coercion,  could  not  afford  to  respect  it; 
and  when  General  Price  virtually  disbanded  his  troops,  under 
its  terms,  he  surrendered  a  great  advantage,  never  to  be  fully 
recovered,  and  immensely  increased  the  subsequent  task  of 
assembling  an  army.  Blair  and  Lyon  were  absolutely  opposed 


56  REMINISCENCES  OF 

to  the  agreement,  and  immediately  made  efforts  for  Harney's 
removal.  They  were  successful,  and  Lyon  was  appointed  in 
his  stead.  He  at  once,  without  scruple  or  explanation,  abrogated 
the  agreement  and  began  active  military  operations. 

General  Price  had,  in  the  meantime,  ordered  the  state  troops 
assembled  at  Jefferson  City  to  return  to  their  respective  military 
districts,  to  be  organized  there  under  the  new  military  law. 
Governor  Jackson  consented  to  the  agreement  with  extreme 
reluctance,  but  approved  it  because,  like  General  Price,  he  wished 
to  avert  bloodshed  if  possible,  and  he  did  not  anticipate  the 
indecent  haste,  if  not,  indeed,  flagrant  violation  of  good  faith, 
with  which  it  was  repudiated. 

It  was  apparent  that,  under  this  arrangement,  active  hostili 
ties  in  Missouri  would  be  indefinitely  postponed;  so  I  asked 
and  obtained  leave  of  absence.  I  was  very  anxious  to  go  to 
Kentucky,  for  I  was  soon  to  be  married  to  one  of  her  most  beauti 
ful  daughters;  and  as  the  date  of  that  event  approached,  I  felt 
a  less  acute  interest  in  the  military  situation  and  heard  with 
more  patience  suggestions  of  an  armistice.  Before  leaving, 
however,  I  wished  to  make  a  brief  visit  to  St.  Louis  to  settle 
my  affairs  there.  My  friends  in  Jefferson  City  remonstrated 
strongly  against  such  a  step  on  my  part,  declaring  that  I  would 
certainly  be  arrested,  and  a  cousin  of  mine  in  St.  Louis,  when 
he  learned  of  my  purpose,  came  post-haste  to  dissuade  me. 

I  was  very  unwilling  to  be  dissuaded.  As  other  men  equally 
involved,  I  thought,  with  myself  in  all  that  had  occurred,  had 
recently  returned  to  St.  Louis  without  molestation,  I  saw  no 
reason  why  I  should  not  be  permitted  to  do  so.  On  the  day 
that  I  proposed  to  go,  some  of  my  friends  were  discussing  the 
matter  with  me  in  a  room  of  one  of  the  hotels,  and  still  urging 
me  to  abandon  the  intention,  when  a  message  came  to  me  to 
the  effect  that  some  one  in  the  hall  wished  to  see  me.  I  stepped 
out  to  find  the  party  who  wanted  me,  and  a  bright,  alert-looking 
young  fellow,  with  red  hair,  was  designated  as  that  individual. 

I  should  say  in  explanation  of  what  passed  between  this  gentle 
man  and  myself  that  one  of  my  warmest  friends  in  St.  Louis 
was  a  young  lawyer,  a  few  years  my  senior,  named  Asa  Jones, 
who  had  been  appointed  United  States  district  attorney  for 
Missouri,  just  after  Mr.  Lincoln's  inauguration.  He  was  a 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  57 

native  of  Vermont,  but  although  an  ardent  Republican  and 
unconditional  Union  man,  his  closest  personal  friends  were 
among  the  Southerners,  who  all  appreciated  his  generous  and 
manly  nature. 

When  I  accosted  the  young  man  pointed  out  as  the  one  who 
wished  to  see  me,  and  whom  I  had  never  seen  before,  he  inquired : 
"Are  you  Captain  Basil  Duke?"  Having  assured  him  that  I 
was,  I  asked  his  name. 

"Never  mind  my  name,"  he  responded,  "it's  better  that  you 
shouldn't  know  it.  But  I  bring  you  a  message  from  Asa  Jones. 
He  has  heard  that  you  are  about  to  return  to  St.  Louis  and  has 
sent  me  to  tell  you  not  to  do  so;  for  he  knows  that  if  you  come 
you  will  have  serious  trouble.  The  Federal  grand  jury  has 
indicted  you  for  treason,  and  if  you  are  arrested  you  will  be 
convicted  on  evidence  of  having  brought  the  guns  from 
Baton  Rouge.  He  would  extremely  dislike  to  prosecute  you, 
and  he  wishes  you  to  promise  that  you  won't  come." 

This  was  definite  and  very  "striking"  information,  and  at 
once  decided  me  to  abandon  my  purpose. 

"Very  well,"  I  said.  "Thank  Asa  for  me  and  tell  him  I 
won't  come." 

"I'm  glad  to  hear  it,"  he  replied.  "I'll  go  straight  back  and 
report  to  Jones,  and  on  his  account  you  must  forget  what  I've 
told  you." 

I  immediately  rejoined  my  friends,  and  after  some  further 
conversation  announced  that  I  was  much  impressed  by  what 
they  had  said  and  that,  after  reflecting  upon  the  reasons  they 
had  advanced,  had  concluded  not  to  go  to  St.  Louis..  They 
were  much  pleased  and  declared  that  they  had  from  the  first 
believed  that  I  would  eventually  listen  to  reason. 

On  the  following  day  I  set  out  for  Kentucky. 

General  Harney  was  removed  from  Federal  command  in 
Missouri  on  May  30,  1861,  and  Lyon  was  appointed  in  his  stead. 
The  latter  promptly  evinced  his  disposition  to  repudiate  the 
terms  of  the  Price-Harney  agreement  and  resume  hostilities.  In 
order  definitely  to  ascertain  what  he  might  expect  in  this 
regard,  Governor  Jackson,  with  General  Price  and  other 
gentlemen,  visited  St.  Louis  and  held  a  conference  with  Lyon 
and  some  of  his  officers  on  June  nth.  Lyon  clearly  and  with 


58  REMINISCENCES  OF 

almost  brutal  frankness  informed  the  representatives  of  Missouri 
that  the  state  must  choose  between  immediate  and  complete 
submission  or  war. 

Instantly  upon  his  return  to  Jefferson  City,  Governor  Jackson 
issued  a  proclamation  in  which  he  announced  the  rejection  by  the 
Federal  authorities  of  every  proposition  contemplating  a  peace 
able  adjustment  of  the  questions  which  had  excited  so  much  dis 
cussion  and  feeling;  declared  that  the  dangers  which  threatened 
Missouri  could  be  averted  only  by  an  appeal  to  arms,  and  called 
into  the  field  fifty  thousand  state  troops.  On  July  I3th  he 
personally  joined  at  Booneville  some  three  hundred  or  four 
hundred  men,  who  were  the  first  to  respond  to  this  call.  He 
was  attacked  there  on  June  I5th  by  Lyon  and  forced  to  retreat 
into  south-western  Missouri.  A  series  of  active  operations 
and  small  combats  ensued,  culminating  in  the  sharp  battle 
and  decisive  Confederate  victory  of  Wilson's  Creek.  Price 
and  McCullough  having  united  their  forces  near  the  Arkansas 
border,  moved  in  the  direction  of  Springfield,  Mo.,  and  near 
that  place  encountered  and  defeated  Lyon,  who  lost  his  life 
in  the  battle. 

In  the  latter  part  of  June  Gen.  William  J.  Hardee,  then 
brigadier-general  in  the  Confederate  army,  had  been  ordered  to 
take  command  of  "that  portion  of  Arkansas  lying  west  of  the 
White  and  Black  Rivers  and  north  of  the  Arkansas  River,  to 
the  Missouri  line."  On  July  I5th,  following,  all  the  troops 
then  recruited  in  Arkansas  for  the  service  of  the  state  were 
formally  transferred  to  the  service  of  the  Confederate  States, 
and  General  Hardee  assumed  command  of  the  district  assigned 
him  July  22d  with  headquarters  at  Pittman's  Ferry.  He  had 
four  or  five  regiments  of  infantry,  two  battalions  of  cavalry, 
and  three  batteries  of  artillery,  in  all  between  four  and  five 
thousand  men.  These  troops  were  all  at  first  encamped  at 
Pocahontas,  Ark.,  but  a  considerable  number  of  them  were  in 
the  early  part  of  August  moved  to  Greenville,  Mo. 

I  was  at  that  date  returning  from  Kentucky,  and  on  my  way 
to  rejoin  the  Missouri  troops  under  Price.  Taking  that  route 
as  the  shortest  and  surest  one  by  which  I  might  reach  General 
Price,  wherever  he  might  be,  I  arrived  at  Pittman's  Ferry 
shortly  before  General  Hardee  moved  thence  to  Greenville. 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  59 

I  found  very  few  there  whom  I  had  previously  known,  but 
among  them  was  John  S.  Marmaduke,  who  was  then  serving  as 
Hardee's  chief  of  staff,  and  very  busily  employed  in  drilling  and 
disciplining  the  new  troops.  He  had  excellent  material  to  handle 
and  was  rapidly  getting  them  in  shape.  When  I  informed  him 
of  my  purpose  to  rejoin  General  Price,  he  advised  me  against 
any  attempt  to  do  so  at  that  time.  He  said  that  I  would  find 
it  more  difficult  than  I  supposed;  and  that  while  travelling 
between  the  respective  commands  of  Hardee  and  Price,  both 
of  which  might  soon  be  actively  engaged  in  offensive  operations, 
I  would  probably  altogether  miss  opportunities  of  witnessing  ser 
vice  I  would  much  like  to  see.  He  offered,  although  I  was  not  then 
enrolled  in  the  Confederate  service,  to  obtain  for  me  some  posi 
tion  under  General  Hardee,  corresponding  with  my  rank  in  the 
state  service.  I  at  once  took  his  advice,  the  more  readily 
because  he  gave  me  to  understand  that  General  Hardee  was 
desirous  of  attempting  a  movement  upon  St.  Louis,  in  which  his 
own  forces  and  those  of  Price  and  Pillow  might  be  combined. 
In  a  day  or  two  Marmaduke  fulfilled  his  promise  to  "take  care" 
of  me,  by  introducing  me  to  Colonel,  afterward  Major-general, 
Thomas  C.  Hindman,  who  was  then  in  command  of  the  Second 
Arkansas  Regiment  of  Infantry.  This  regiment  was  so  large, 
having  seventeen  companies  in  it,  that  it  was  popularly  termed 
Hindman's  "  Legion."  Colonel  Hindman,  feeling,  doubtless, 
that  because  of  the  unusual  strength  of  his  regiment  he  needed 
and  was  entitled  to  something  more  than  the  regular  regimental 
staff,  invited  me  to  serve  with  him  as  volunteer  aide,  and  I 
gladly  accepted.  I  am  not  sure  that  my  services  were  of  any 
value,  but  he  certainly  kept  me  constantly  and  actively  employed, 
which  was  his  custom  with  every  one,  not  sparing  himself. 

Hindman  had  been  a  successful  politician,  and  was  in  congress 
at  the  breaking  out  of  the  war.  He  was  a  forcible  and  attractive 
speaker,  and,  indeed,  a  really  able  man.  His  energy  was  extra 
ordinary,  and  his  temper  as  impetuous  as  his  courage.  While 
arbitrary  and  imperious  in  his  dealings  with  those  who  opposed 
him,  or  whom  he  deemed  his  enemies,  he  was  much  admired  and 
liked  by  his  friends.  At  the  time  of  which  I  speak  he  was  very 
popular  with  the  Arkansas  troops,  and  his  influence  over  them 
was  greater,  perhaps,  than  that  of  any  other  officer. 


60  REMINISCENCES  OF 

The  camps  at  Pittman's  Ferry  and  Pocahontas  were  scourged 
by  the  usual  diseases  to  which  raw  troops  are  liable,  and  measles, 
especially,  raged  with  extreme  virulence  and  counted  its  victims 
by  scores.  The  march  to  Greenville  was  of  great  benefit  to  the 
troops,  not  only  by  removing  them  to  a  healthier  locality,  but 
because  of  the  diversion  it  effected  from  unpleasant  and  melan 
choly  scenes  to  more  wholesome  and  agreeable  surroundings. 
It  was  made  through  a  densely  wooded  country  and  over  rugged 
roads,  which  for  two  or  three  days  severely  tested  the  endurance 
of  men  unaccustomed  to  moving  in  large  bodies  and  close  order, 
but  the  experience  was  just  what  they  needed,  and  their  new 
encampments  were  all  the  more  welcome  because  of  it. 

Soon  after  reaching  Greenville,  the  adjutant  of  Hindman's 
regiment  was  taken  sick  and  I  was  temporarily  assigned  to 
that  position.  I  found  it  not  altogether  a  sinecure,  as  one 
incident  in  which  I  participated  will  illustrate.  There  was  a 
company  in  the  "Legion"  composed  entirely  of  Irish,  which, 
in  accordance  with  a  custom  very  prevalent  at  the  time,  had 
been  given  an  appellation  distinct  from  its  regimental  designa 
tion,  viz.,  the  "Shamrock  guards."  It  numbered  more  than 
eighty  men,  and  was  officered  entirely  by  Irishmen.  The  captain 
and  first  lieutenant  had  been  railroad  contractors,  and  the 
men,  having  all  worked  under  them,  were  pretty  thoroughly 
under  their  control.  The  other  two  lieutenants  and  the  non 
commissioned  officers  were  younger,  less  experienced,  and  not 
so  well  known  to  the  men  and  could  exercise,  consequently, 
less  authority  over  them.  The  Shamrocks,  with  some  five  or 
six  other  companies  of  Hindman's  regiment,  were  encamped  in 
a  large  apple  orchard  near  the  town,  and  one  morning  word 
was  brought  to  the  colonel's  headquarters  that  the  company 
was  on  a  big  drunk.  It  was  reported  that  they  were  not  only 
fighting  among  themselves,  but  had  declared  war  against 
all  who  might  approach  them,  and  had  gotten  completely 
beyond  control. 

This  news  was  the  more  disquieting  because  the  captain  and 
first  lieutenant  were  both  absent  on  leave.  Colonel  Hindman 
instructed  me  to  go  instantly  to  the  scene  of  disturbance  and 
promptly  restore  order.  I  did  not  feel  an  implicit  confidence 
in  my  ability  to  execute  the  mission,  but  was  consoled  by  the 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  61 

reflection  that  I  was  well  known  to  the  Shamrocks  and  on 
exceedingly  good  terms  with  them.  While  big  muscular  men, 
and  capable  of  the  hardest  labour,  they  were  poor  pedestrians, 
and  on  the  march  from  Pocahontas  to  Greenville  had  suffered 
more  from  fatigue  and  sore  feet  than  any  of  the  other  troops. 
During  that  march  I  had  more  than  once  assisted  every  man  in 
the  company,  perhaps,  by  permitting  him,  when  lagging  weary 
and  crippled  in  the  rear,  to  ride  my  horse  until  he  caught  up 
with  his  comrades;  and  I  knew  that  I  had  gained  their  gratitude 
and  good-will.  Yet  when  I  reached  the  ground  where  I  was 
to  tackle  the  Shamrocks,  I  saw  a  sight  which  sorely  tried  my 
nerves  and  somewhat  shook  my  resolution.  All  the  company 
except  the  two  lieutenants  and  the  non-commissioned  officers 
were  in  liquor.  Thirty-five  or  forty  were  roaring  drunk  and  fight 
ing  like  tigers.  They  had  not  taken  the  trouble  to  pair  off, 
but  were  engaged  in  a  free  fight,  each  man  for  his  own  hand  and 
hitting  at  any  head  he  saw.  Fortunately  they  were  not  using 
weapons,  but  were,  nevertheless,  inflicting  on  each  other  con 
siderable  damage.  The  others  were  looking  on  with  approba 
tion,  and  occasionally  furnishing  a  fresh  combatant.  The 
lieutenants  and  non-commissioned  officers  were  striving  conscien 
tiously  but  ineffectually  to  stop  the  fray,  and  when  I  got  there 
were  almost  in  a  state  of  collapse.  Their  efforts  for  peace  met 
with  fierce  resentment,  and  they  had  been  beaten  until  they 
were  as  limp  as  wet  rags,  and  their  faces  looked  like  raw  steaks 
dripping  with  blood.  I  was  at  first  inclined  to  call  on  some  of 
the  other  companies  of  the  regiment  to  quell  the  riot,  but,  as 
outside  interference  might  have  induced  subsequent  jealousy 
and  bad  feeling,  I  thought  it  better  to  recognize  the  principle 
of  home-rule  and  require  the  Shamrocks  to  police  themselves. 
Moreover,  the  Arkansas  boys,  if  roughly  handled,  might  have 
used  weapons.  I  therefore  ordered  the  partially  sober  men, 
who  were  the  more  numerous,  to  arrest  the  disorderly  ones. 
They  showed  such  reluctance  to  obey,  not  wishing  to  stop  a 
beautiful  fight,  that  I  found  it  necessary  to  set  the  example. 
I  did  so  very  unwillingly,  for  I  knew  that  such  a  pounding  as  had 
been  given  the  officers  would  quickly  extinguish  me.  I  imme 
diately  discovered,  however,  to  my  great  satisfaction,  that  even 
the  drunkest  and  most  furious  would  not  strike  me.  Either 


62  REMINISCENCES  OF 

my  rank  protected  me,  or,  as  I  rather  believe,  they  remembered 
my  previous  good  offices.  At  any  rate,  they  simply  shoved 
me  aside  when  I  would  catch  hold  of  them  and  continued  to 
batter  each  other.  Becoming  as  bold  as  a  lion  when  I  found 
that  I  was  in  no  danger,  I  rushed  into  the  midst  of  the  melee 
and  imperatively  commanded  the  bystanders  to  follow  and  assist 
me.  When  these  saw  I  was  in  earnest  they  obeyed.  But  the 
fighters  showed  them  no  such  consideration  as  they  had  extended 
me.  On  the  contrary,  they  turned  in  a  body  on  the  interlopers, 
and  that  once  quiet  and  smiling  orchard  was  converted  into  a 
seeming  pandemonium,  and  the  tumult  of  battle  and  bloody 
murther  rose  to  the  startled  skies. 

But  after  a  few  minutes  of  hard  struggle,  during  which  I 
prudently  withdrew  to  the  outside  of  the  ring,  numbers  prevailed 
and  the  rioters  were  overpowered.  Then  arose  the  question 
what  should  be  done  with  the  offenders.  Very  little  respect  was 
paid  to  my  opinions  or  wishes  in  the  matter.  The  constab 
ulary  force  had  lost  all  their  former  sympathy  with  the  fighters, 
and  were  so  angry  because  of  the  trouble  given  them  and  the 
punches  they  had  received  that  they  thought  only  of  revenge 
and  future  security.  It  was  unanimously  resolved  that  the 
culprits  should  be  bucked  and  gagged.  1  had  a  soft  spot  in 
my  heart  for  the  Shamrocks,  and  notwithstanding  the  fact 
that  I  was  compelled  to  approve  the  sentence,  I  pleaded  that 
they  should  be  gagged  with  corn-cobs  instead  of  bayonets. 
The  suggestion  elicited  a  storm  of  dissent.  "Just  listen  to  that," 
said  one  fellow.  "Did  ye  ever  hear  the  like?  Gag  them  big 
flannel-mouths  with  corn-cobs.  Begorra,  he'll  be  tellin'  us 
next  to  wash  their  throats  wid  buttermilk." 

"Yu're  a  good  mon,  adjutant,"  said  another,  "but  yu're 
too  tindher-hearted.  Thim  divils  wud  mind  a  corn-cob  no  more'n 
a  pig  wud  a  sthraw.  The  boy'nit's  the  thing  for  thim  to  chaw  on." 

So  a  bayonet  was  crammed  into  each  guilty  mouth,  and  having 
been  also  "bucked,"  that  is,  tied  up  knees  to  chin,  they  were 
left  as  the  sergeant  expressed  it,  "To  go  to  shlape  paycably 
in  the  sun."  In  a  few  hours  they  were  all  sober  and  nearly  as 
good  as  new.  No  unpleasant  feeling  remained,  and  except 
for  the  black  eyes  and  bruises  no  one  could  have  guessed  that 
anything  had  happened  to  the  Shamrocks. 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  63 

About  the  middle  of  August  we  got  the  news  of  the  victory 
won  over  Lyon  by  Price  and  McCullough,  and  it  lost  nothing  in 
the  telling.  The  troops  at  Greenville  were  greatly  elated  by 
it  and  spurred  to  such  emulation  that  they  thought  and  talked 
of  nothing  but  marching  against  the  enemy  and  early  battle. 
It  was  expected  that  General  Price  would  immediately  press 
forward  into  central  Missouri  and  to  the  Missouri  River  —  as 
he  did  —  and  General  Hardee  was  very  desirous  of  advancing 
on  St.  Louis  if  he  could  secure  the  cooperation  of  General  Pillow 
and  of  the  Missouri  state  troops  in  his  vicinity,  commanded  by 
General  Thompson. 

The  situation  seemed  propitious  for  offensive  operations  on 
the  part  of  the  Confederates.  The  defeated  army  of  Lyon  was 
in  full  and  disorderly  retreat.  The  respective  forces  of  Hardee, 
Pillow,  and  Thompson  were  so  located  that  cooperation  and 
junction  between  them  would  be  easy;  and  a  rapid  march  would 
take  them  to  the  immediate  vicinity  of  St.  Louis  sooner  than 
those  fleeing  from  the  disaster  at  Wilson's  Creek  could  arrive  to 
assist  in  the  defence  of  that  city.  Combined  they  would 
probably  out-number  the  other  Federal  troops  on  which  Fremont 
relied  to  hold  St.  Louis,  and  were  certainly  better  prepared 
for  battle. 

When  my  temporary  service  as  adjutant  of  Hindman's  regi 
ment  terminated  on  the  return  of  Lieutenant  Patterson,  I  sought 
and  obtained  permission  from  General  Hardee  to  do  scouting 
duty.  I  was  very  desirous  to  procure  command  of  a  body  of 
cavalry  strong  enough  to  attack  and  capture  the  garrison  at  the 
bridge  over  the  Meramee,  near  St.  Louis,  so  soon  as  the  forward 
movement  should  commence.  After  its  destruction  it  would 
be  difficult,  if  not  impossible,  for  the  Federals  to  reinforce  Iron- 
ton,  the  then  terminus  of  the  Iron  Mountain  railroad,  and  the 
road  to  St.  Louis  would  be  open  and  clear  of  obstacles.  I  was 
sent  on  missions  which  took  me  far  to  the  front,  and  I  prized 
these  opportunities  more  highly  because  I  was  thus  enabled  to 
get  a  good  knowledge  of  the  country  the  army  would  traverse 
if  advance  was  determined  upon.  I  learned  at  this  time 
my  first  lessons  in  scouting  and  outpost  duty,  rudimentary 
compared  with  those  I  afterward  received  under  Morgan,  but 
nevertheless  valuable. 


64  REMINISCENCES  OF 

Two  young  friends  of  mine  from  St.  Louis,  White  Kennett  and 
Harry  Churchill,  were  respectively  captain  and  first  lieutenant 
of  a  small  company  of  cavalry  which  belonged  to  the  Missouri 
State  guard  but  was  then  unattached  and  virtually  acting  inde 
pendently.  The  boys  of  this  little  squad  were  well  armed  and 
mounted,  roved  at  will  and  lived  on  the  fat  of  the  land.  As 
their  movements  were  generally  along  the  same  lines  with  my 
own,  I  accompanied  them  on  many  of  their  excursions.  Their 
service  was  neither  arduous  nor  "bloody."  There  was  not  a 
great  deal  of  fighting  done  anywhere  at  that  date,  but  it  was 
bold  and  interesting.  Kennett  and  Churchill  at  least  kept 
their  eyes  open  and  discovered  a  good  deal  worth  reporting  to 
headquarters,  and  as  they  were  often  in  close  proximity  to  the 
camps  of  the  enemy,  they  occasionally  took  prisoners  or  made 
more  valuable  captures. 

I  had  one  experience  while  engaged  in  this  sort  of  duty  which  I 
remember  vividly,  trivial  as  it  may  seem.  On  one  occasion  Gen 
eral  Hardee  ordered  me  to  go  to  Frederickton,  a  little  town  a 
few  miles  from  Ironton,  and,  as  nearly  as  my  memory  serves 
me,  some  fifty  or  sixty  miles  from  Greenville,  to  communicate 
certain  instruction  to  parties  there  and  bring  back  information 
which  they  were  expected  to  furnish.  It  was  more  than  an 
ordinary  day's  ride,  and  although  I  made  an  early  start  from 
Greenville,  I  was,  at  nightfall,  still  a  considerable  distance 
from  my  destination.  That  country  was  then  quite  thinly 
peopled.  The  houses  were  far  apart  and  dense  woods  stretched 
for  miles  in  every  direction.  I  was  alone,  and,  as  I  rode  along 
the  deserted,  dusty  country  road  I  could  not  prevent  my  imagi 
nation  from  strongly  asserting  itself  and  suggesting  that  all 
sorts  of  prospective  dangers  might  be  lurking  in  the  thickets 
on  either  side.  The  very  fact  that  the  moon  shone  brightly 
rather  added  to  my  discomfort,  for  I  fancied  I  could  see  things 
moving  in  the  shadows. 

At  intervals,  among  the  usual  noises  of  the  night,  I  heard 
sounds  which  I  listened  to  with  anything  but  pleasure.  I  had 
heard  these  sounds  more  than  once  before  when  riding  through 
this  region  at  night.  I  had  supposed  them  to  be  the  cries  of 
hounds  running  at  large,  and  hunting  without  a  master,  but 
those,  professing  to  be  informed,  told  me  that  they  were  the 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  65 

howls  of  wolves  chasing  deer.  On  former  occasions,  as  I  had 
never  seen  the  wolves  and  had  been  surrounded  by  companions, 
I  had  given  the  matter  little  concern;  but  now  I  listened  with 
an  apprehension  which  was  heightened  by  the  fear  with  which 
my  horse  evidently  heard  the  melancholy  music.  I  was  really 
in  no  danger,  for  if  these  brutes  ever  attack  man  under  any 
circumstances,  they  would,  at  any  rate,  not  have  done  so  at 
that  time  of  the  year.  But  the  thing  was  unpleasant  and  set 
my  nerves  on  edge,  so  that  whenever  an  owl  hooted,  or  a  wild 
hog  scared  by  my  approach  dashed  through  the  brush  with  sudden 
grunt,  I  too,  very  nearly  went  off  in  a  panic. 

About  ten  o'clock,  a  late  hour  for  the  country  people,  I 
reached  a  house  which,  with  its  premises,  answered  in  appearance 
to  the  description  I  had  been  given  of  the  place  where  I  had 
been  advised  to  stop  for  the  night.  The  house  was  a  little  back 
from  the  road,  but  with  no  yard  or  fence  in  front  of  it.  I  rode 
up  to  it  and  found  the  door  closed  and  no  lights  showing;  the 
inmates  had  long  been  asleep.  I  shouted  at  the  top  of  my  voice, 
but  for  some  minutes  received  no  answer.  At  length  the  door 
was  pushed  partially  open,  a  man  looked  out  cautiously  and 
gruffly  asked  what  I  wanted.  I  told  him  that  I  wished  to  get 
lodging  until  morning.  He  suggested  that  I  look  for  it  farther 
on.  I  declared  that  I  couldn't  think  of  doing  that. 

"Well,  stranger,"  he  said,  "I  ain't  in  the  habit  of  turnin* 
folks  off,  but  in  these  times  I  don't  like  to  let  in  them  I  don't 
know." 

"Isn't  this  Cagey  Graham's  house?"  I  responded.  "I  was 
told  to  ask  for  him." 

"What  in  the  —  do  you  want  with  Cagey  Graham?"  he  in 
quired  with  considerable  emphasis.  I  had  been  informed  that 
Cagey  Graham  was  an  old  farmer  of  that  "neck  of  the  woods," 
quite  a  leading  man  in  his  neighbourhood  and  a  red-hot  rebel. 
I  felt  pretty  sure  that  I  was  at  the  right  place,  and  thought  it 
best  to  speak  plainly,  so  I  told  him  that  I  was  just  from  Green 
ville  and  bearer  of  despatches  from  General  Hardee  to  parties 
in  Frederickton.  I  added  something  which  was  not  strictly 
accurate,  but  ought  to  have  been  so,  I  said  that  General  Hardee, 
Colonel  Hindman  and,  indeed,  all  of  the  Confederate  officers 
at  Greenville,  had  particularly  requested  me  to  'see  Cagey 


66  REMINISCENCES  OF 

Graham,  learn  from  him  all  that  was  going  on,  and  find  out  what 
he  thought  ought  to  be  done.  He  was  so  much  mollified  by  this 
statement  that  he  stepped  out  of  the  house  and  admitted 
that  he  was  Cagey  Graham. 

After  ascertaining  that  I  was  entirely  alone,  he  said  that  I 
might  stay  all  night.  He  directed  me  where  to  stable  and  feed 
my  horse,  and  gave  the  welcome  information  that  I  should  have 
something  to  eat  myself.  When  I  returned  from  the  stable  I 
saw,  although  he  treated  me  hospitably,  that  his  doubts  were 
not  entirely  resolve'd,  and  he  was  not  convinced  that  I  was 
what  I  represented  myself  to  be  until  I  had  answered  satisfac 
torily  a  number  of  inquiries.  Fortunately  I  knew  all  of  the 
cavalry  men,  Confederate  and  state  guard,  with  whom  he,  too, 
was  personally  acquainted,  and  who  had  passed  through  that 
part  of  the  country.  When  I  finished  supper  he  gave  me  a  bed 
in  an  adjoining  room  and  bade  me  good  night.  Just  as  I  was 
dropping  off  to  sleep  my  slumber  was  postponed  by  the  sound  of 
the  opening  of  the  front  door  and  the  entrance  of  some  one.  To 
the  old  man's  quick  challenge  of  "who's  that?"  the  new  comer 
answered,  "Bill,"  and  proceeded  in  turn  to  inquire,  "Who's 
that  man  who  came  in  here  a  while  back?"  I  listened  with  a 
good  deal  of  interest  while  the  old  man  vouched  for  me. 

"He's  all  right,"  he  said.  "He  knows  Kennett  and  Churchill 
and  Borland's  men.  He's  one  of  Hardee's  people  himself. 
Thar  ain't  no  trouble  'bout  him." 

The  other  did  not  seem  to  be  perfectly  assured,  but  saying: 
"Well,  I'll  see  him  in  the  mornin',"  let  the  subject  drop. 

Early  the  next  morning  old  Cagey  called  me  to  breakfast. 
Two  or  three  men  beside  himself  were  seated  at  the  table,  and 
looked  at  me  rather  suspiciously.  One  of  them,  a  good-looking, 
powerfully  built  young  fellow  of  about  twenty,  was  introduced 
to  me  by  the  old  man  as  "My  son  Bill." 

When  Bill  spoke  I  recognized  the  voice  which  had  so  particu 
larly  inquired  about  me  during  the  night.  At  first  his  demeanour 
was  sullen,  almost  surly,  but  after  talking  with  him  a  short  time 
it  underwent  a  sudden  and  agreeable  change.  He  smiled  in  a 
genial  and  encouraging  fashion.  "Why,  captain,"  he  said, 
"I  didn't  know  you  at  first,  but  I've  jest  placed  you,"  I  expressed 
my  gratification  to  learn  that  such  was  the  fact,  and  he  continued: 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  67 

"  I  belong  to  Kennett's  company,  and  I  recollect  seeing  you  being 
along  with  us  two  or  three  times.  I'm  powerful  glad  I  didn't 
shoot  you  last  night." 

I  assured  him  that  his  satisfaction  in  that  regard  could 
certainly  not  be  so  great  as  my  own,  but  begged  to  know  why  it 
was  he  had  harboured  any  thought  of  shooting  me.  He  explained 
that  the  people  who  lived  in  the  neighbourhood  and  his  father, 
especially,  had  recently  been  annoyed  and  harassed  by  a  band 
of  men  who  differed  with  them  politically,  and  expressed  such 
difference  of  opinion  in  a  very  objectionable  manner.  These 
fellows,  he  said,  who  dwelt  within  the  Federal  lines,  were  in  the 
habit  of  making  nocturnal  incursions  into  the  vicinage,  driving 
off  stock,  occasionally  sacking  a  house,  and  altogether  behaving 
in  a  way  that  he  thought  was  "ridiculous."  He  was  approach 
ing  his  father's  house  the  last  night  just  as  I  did  so.  Hearing 
me  coming,  he  had  slipped  into  the  woods,  and  when  I  passed 
followed  me.  He  was  ignorant  of  my  purpose  and  of  whether 
I  was  or  was  not  one  of  the  marauders,  and  was  willing  to  give 
me  the  benefit  of  the  doubt. 

"When  you  rode  up  to  the  House  and  hollered  out  like  you  did, 
I  concluded  you  didn't  mean  no  harm.  If  you  had  hitched 
your  horse  out  in  the  bresh  and  prowled  around  on  foot,"  he 
said,  "  I'd  have  let  you  have  both  barrels  of  my  shot-gun." 

I  was  profoundly  grateful  to  the  Providence  which  had  in 
spired  me  to  ride  up  to  the  house  and  "holler." 

While  this  region,  at  the  time  of  which  I  write,  was  sparsely 
settled,  remote  from  any  large  commercial  point  and  not 
easy  of  access,  it  was  prosperous  and  its  people  were  well-to-do. 
The  country  was  wild  and  somewhat  rugged,  but  in  certain 
localities  well  cultivated  and  fruitful.  The  peach  orchards, 
I  remember,  were  exceptionally  fine,  and  much  enjoyed  by  roving 
cavalrymen;  and  the  "square  meals"  were  excellent. 

There  were  very  many  gallant  men  in  the  little  army  then  en 
camped  at  Greenville,  nearly  all  of  whom  became  in  a  brief  time 
excellent  soldiers;  and  among  the  officers  several  attained  just 
distinction.  I  first  saw  and  made  the  acquaintance  there  of  two, 
who  were  subsequently  ranked  only  a  little  below  the  ablest 
and  most  famous  of  the  Confederate  leaders.  These  two  were 
Hardee  and  Cleburne. 


68  REMINISCENCES  OF 

General  Hardee  was  a  thoroughly  educated  and  exceedingly 
accomplished  soldier.  No  one  in  the  old  army,  perhaps,  was 
more  perfectly  versed  in  either  the  more  important  or  the  minutest 
details  of  professional  knowledge.  I  believe  that  it  is  admitted 
that  he  had  no  superior  as  a  corps  commander,  and  his  capacity 
for  handling  troops  on  the  battle  field  and  his  skill  as  a  tactician 
were  unsurpassed.  I  have  frequently  heard  it  stated  that 
he  was  offered  the  command  of  the  Army  of  Tennessee  when 
Bragg  was  removed,  and  that  Hood  was  not  appointed,  until 
after  his  declination.  I  don't  know  whether  this  be  true  or  not, 
but  if  it  be,  I  am  sure  that  he  was  influenced  by  undue  modesty. 
My  estimate  of  him  may  be  enhanced  by  gratitude  for  kindness 
received  at  his  hands,  but  I  believe  that  he  possessed  almost 
every  quality  which  is  necessary  to  make  an  able  general,  unless 
it  may  have  been  self-confidence.  His  grasp  of  a  strategic 
question  or  situation  was  clear  and  comprehensive,  and  as  an 
army  leader  he  was  prompt,  bold,  and  alert.  I  have  sometimes 
heard  General  Hardee  characterized  as  a  martinet.  This  is 
not  just  to  him.  He  believed  in  careful  discipline  and  was 
sometimes  strict  in  enforcing  its  essentials.  But  he  was  never 
harsh,  and  was  not  only  solicitous  for  the  comfort  of  his  men, 
but  entertained  the  kindest  feeling  for  them.  He  was  a  hand 
some  man  of  very  striking  figure,  and  extremely  courteous  and 
pleasant  in  manner. 

Gen.  Patrick  R.  Cleburne  has  been  sometimes  termed  the 
Stonewall  Jackson  of  the  West,  and,  while  it  cannot  be  claimed 
that  he  possessed  the  genius  of  Jackson,  the  appellation  is  un 
questionably  extremely  apposite.  He  had  the  same  dauntless 
temper  and  patient,  unflagging  energy,  the  same  conscientious, 
almost  fanatical  devotion  to  duty,  and  an  equally  combative 
inclination  as  a  soldier.  At  Greenville  he  was  the  colonel  of 
the  First,  afterward,  I  think,  designated  as  the  Fifteenth  Ar 
kansas  Infantry.  I  cannot  remember  that  I  ever  saw  an  officer 
who  was  so  industrious  and  persistent  in  his  efforts  properly 
to  drill  and  instruct  the  men  under  his  command.  He  took 
great  interest  in  everything  connected  with  tactics,  and  per 
sonally  taught  it  all,  and  was  occupied  from  morning  until  night 
in  superintending  squad,  company,  and  battalion  drill,  guard 
mounting,  inspection  and,  indeed,  everything  mentioned  in  the 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  69 

books  or  that  he  could  conceive  of.  I  have  seen  him  during 
the  hottest  hours  of  the  hottest  days  in  August  instruct  squad 
after  squad  in  the  bayonet  exercise  until  I  wondered  how  any 
human  frame  could  endure  the  fatigue  that  his  exertions  must 
have  induced.  He  was  unlike  Stonewall  Jackson  in  one  particu 
lar;  when  angered,  annoyed  or  astonished,  he  would  swear,  and, 
although  his  oaths  were  brief,  they  were  intensely  energetic. 
His  speech  ordinarily  had  little  of  the  Irish  accent,  and  was  slow, 
clear,  and  precise,  but  in  his  moments  of  excitement  or  dissent 
the  brogue  became  broad  and  strong. 

A  member  of  the  company  he  commanded  as  captain  before 
he  was  elected  colonel,  told  me  of  an  amusing  instance  of  this 
peculiarity.  It  occurred  the  first  time  that  all  the  companies 
composing  the  regiment  were  assembled  for  battalion  drill. 
Cleburne  had  up  to  that  date  studied  assiduously  everything 
about  company  drill,  but  had  not  read  further.  The  tactical 
instructor  of  the  regiment  on  that  occasion  gave  some  order  to 
be  found  only  in  the  pages  devoted  to  movements  performed 
in  battalion  drill,  accompanying  it  with  the  explanation  of  how 
it  was  to  be  executed  and  the  corresponding  order  each  captain 
should  give  his  company.  Cleburne  gave  the  required  order  in 
a  loud,  resonant  tone,  and  then  muttered  in  a  growl,  which 
was  heard  by  every  man  in  his  own  ranks,  "There's  no  such 
dom'd  evolution  in  the  buk." 

He  was  extremely  temperate  and  simple  in  his  mode  of  life, 
reserved  and  studious;  and  was  an  ardent  botanist.  No  braver 
or  more  resolute  man  ever  lived,  but  he  was  warm-hearted  and 
generous  to  a  degree  and  devoted  in  his  friendships.  He  was 
skilful,  I  believe,  in  the  use  of  all  arms,  but  was  extraordinarily 
so  with  the  pistol.  A  remarkable  and  very  tragic  incident 
illustrative  of  his  perfect  command  of  this  weapon  occurred 
while  the  troops  were  encamped  at  Greenville.  Cleburne's 
headquarters  were  in  the  court-house  of  the  little  place,  and  he 
used  one  of  the  rooms  in  the  building  as  an  office  and  also  sleeping 
room.  One  day  a  lieutenant  of  the  Missouri  State  guard  came 
to  Greenville  with  a  small  detail  of  men,  escorting  some  Federal 
prisoners  whom  they  had  captured  near  Ironton.  After  taking 
the  prisoners,  this  party  had  marched  continuously  for  two  or 
three  days  and  nights,  and  were,  of  course,  very  much  exhausted 


70  REMINISCENCES  OF 

and  in  a  very  nervous  condition  when  they  reached  Greenville. 
The  prisoners  and  the  guard  were  also  quartered  in  the  court 
house,  and  late  that  night  the  lieutenant,  dreaming  that  the 
prisoners  were  escaping,  sprang  up  and  yelled  in  the  wildest  ex 
citement,  arousing,  of  course,  every  one  in  the  building,  and 
creating  a  wild  uproar  and  confusion.  The  guard  and  other 
soldiers  who  were  in  the  house,  unable  to  recognize  each  other  in 
the  dark,  began  fighting  among  themselves.  The  somnambulist, 
still  madly  shouting,  rushed  past  Cleburne's  room,  the  door  of 
which  was  open.  As  the  man  sped  by,  Cleburne,  believing  him 
to  be  one  of  the  prisoners  attempting  to  escape,  seized  his  re 
volver,  which  was  under  his  pillow,  fired  and  inflicted  a  fatal 
wound.  For  a  man  just  aroused  from  sleep  to  make  such  a  shot, 
hitting  a  mark  presented  to  his  vision  for  only  a  fraction  of  a 
second,  was  certainly  extraordinary.  The  poor  fellow  who  was 
shot  survived  only  an  hour  or  two,  but  with  his  dying  breath 
exonerated  Cleburne  of  all  blame.  Cleburne  was  sorely  grieved 
by  this  unfortunate  occurrence,  and  some  of  his  friends  have  told 
me  that  he  never  recovered  from  the  remorse  it  occasioned. 

His  subsequent  brilliant  career  in  the  Confederate  service 
and  his  heroic  death  at  the  bloody  battle  of  Franklin  are  so 
well  known  that  I.  need  not  comment  on  them.  He  is  entitled 
to  high  place  among  the  heroes  whose  memory  the  South  loves 
to  honour. 

General  Hardee's  desire  to  march  on  St.  Louis  was  never 
realized.  The  plan  was  abandoned  not,  I  think,  because  Hardee 
would  not  have  been  able  to  secure  such  cooperation  of  the  com 
mands  of  Pillow  and  Thompson  with  his  own  as  would  have 
insured  its  success,  but  because  the  authorities  at  Richmond 
deemed  it  better  to  concentrate  all  available  forces  in  that 
quarter  in  Kentucky.  Hardee  was  therefore  ordered  to  Bowling 
Green,  where  the  headquarters  of  Gen.  Albert  Sidney  Johnston's 
department  had  been  established,  and  took  with  him  to  that 
point  the  greater  part  of  the  troops  which  had  been  under  his 
command  in  south-western  Missouri.  From  that  date  until  the 
close  of  the  war  Missouri  was  constantly  and  more  perfectly 
in  the  Federal  grasp  than  was  even  Kentucky,  although 
her  territory,  like  that  of  Kentucky,  was  frequently  penetrated 
by  Confederate  raids  and  incursions. 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  71 

The  partisan  cavalry  operations  conducted  by  Marmaduke 
and  Shelby  in  Missouri  were  very  similar  to  those  of  Morgan 
in  Kentucky  and  directed  to  much  the  same  purposes.  The 
border  and  guerilla  warfare  there  was  quite  as  fierce  and  bloody, 
and  productive  of  more  intense  and  enduring  resentment;  and, 
as  in  Kentucky,  there  were  countless  skirmishes  fought  in  which 
many  lives  were  lost,  which  have  never  been  recorded  and  have 
been  even  nameless. 

When  General  Hardee  received  his  orders  to  proceed  to  Bowl 
ing  Green,  he  apprised  me  of  them  and  very  kindly  advised  me 
to  give  up  all  idea  of  rejoining  General  Price,  and  to  go  imme 
diately  to  Kentucky  and  endeavour  to  recruit  such  a  cavalry 
command  there  as  I  had  hoped  to  raise  in  Missouri.  He  gave 
me  a  letter  to  General  Buckner,  with  whom  I  was  not  then 
personally  acquainted,  and  promised  me  all  the  aid  in  his  power 
when  he  reached  Bowling  Green. 

He  was  very  partial  to  this  use  of  cavalry  and  was  an  intelli 
gent,  firm  believer  in  its  efficacy.  He  became  an  ardent  friend 
and  advocate  of  Morgan,  so  soon  as  the  latter  began  to  develop 
his  remarkable  efficiency  in  this  service,  warmly  encouraged 
and  commended  him,  and  constantly  urged  his  promotion. 

I  reached  Nashville  on  the  same  day  that  Gen.  Albert  Sidney 
Johnston  arrived  there  on  his  way  to  Bowling  Green  and  then 
saw  that  great  man  for  the  first  time.  I  saw  him  more  than 
once  afterward,  but  never  without  being  impressed  by  the  maj 
esty  of  his  appearance  and  manner,  which  was  inexpressibly 
striking  and  affected  all  who  approached  his  presence.  Troops 
were  hastening  to  Bowling  Green  from  every  point  whence  they 
could  be  drawn,  but,  as  was  soon  demonstrated,  in  no  such 
number  as  was  necessary  to  maintain  the  line  which  General 
Johnston  wished  to  hold.  The  little  town,  however,  was  so 
crowded  with  staff  officers  and  gentry  who  sported  flashy  uni 
forms,  and  its  environs  so  completely  covered  with  encamp 
ments,  the  long  lines  of  tents  stretching  in  every  direction,  that 
to  the  inexperienced  —  and  we  were  all  without  experience 
then  —  a  vast  host  seemed  to  be  assembled. 

My  friend,  Captain  Kennett,  had  accompanied  me  from  Mis 
souri  with  a  purpose  which  to  those  who  do  not  remember  the 
conditions  of  that  period  can  scarcely  be  made  comprehensible. 


72  REMINISCENCES  OF 

Like  myself,  he  was  a  young  husband  and  very  much  pained  by 
his  enforced  separation  from  his  wife  and  the  difficulty  of  writing 
or  hearing  from  her.  While  in  Missouri,  although  never  over 
one  hundred  miles  from  St.  Louis,  he  had  found  it  impossible 
to  send  a  letter  or  receive  one  through  the  lines,  so  he  determined 
to  go  to  Louisville,  at  any  risk  of  capture,  whence  he  could 
correspond  with  Mrs.p  Kennett  in  the  full  assurance,  at  least, 
of  mail  facilities.  We  proceeded  together  to  Bowling  Green 
and  thence  to  Munfordsville,  where  the  Second  Kentucky  In 
fantry,  under  Col.  Roger  W.  Hanson,  was  posted  in  the  extreme 
advance  of  the  army.  It  was  my  wish  to  get  to  Lexington,  and 
Kennett's,  as  I  have  said,  to  reach  Louisville,  but  the  southern 
end  of  the  railroad  had  ceased  operations  any  farther  than  Mun 
fordsville,  with  the  Confederate  occupation  of  that  point,  and 
it  was  very  difficult  to  procure  any  means  of  transportation. 
We  found  three  or  four  well-known  merchants  of  Louisville,  who 
had  made  a  flying  visit  to  Nashville  on  the  eve  of  this  sudden 
development  of  the  military  situation,  and,  having  gotten  as 
far  back  on  their  way  home  as  Munfordsville,  were  stranded 
there  like  ourselves.  Finally,  after  diligent  inquiry  and  effort, 
we  secured  a  large,  covered  road  wagon  with  its  team  and  en 
gaged  it  to  carry  the  whole  outfit,  mercantile  and  military, 
to  Elizabethtown.  It  was  a  weary  mode  of  progression  and  far 
less  comfortable  than  a  march  along  the  same  road  on  horseback 
would  have  been,  but  after  a  long  night  of  jolts  and  cramps 
we  arrived  at  Elizabethtown  about  ten  o'clock  of  a  bright 
Sabbath  morning. 

The  population  of  the  town  and  the  adjacent  country  was  in  a 
state  of  great  excitement.  Information  had  been  received  that 
a  large  body  of  Federal  troops  'had  started  the  day  previous 
from  Louisville  southward,  and  a  party  of  citizens  —  Southern 
sympathizers  —  had  burned  a  small  bridge,  or  culvert,  eight 
or  ten  miles  north  of  Elizabethtown  with  a  view  of  impeding 
its  progress.  It  very  materially  impeded  our  progress  also, 
inasmuch  as  it  considerably  interrupted  rail  communication  with 
all  territory  beyond  Elizabethtown.  Kennett  and  I,  after  much 
discussion,  effected  an  arrangement  with  a  livery-stable  keeper 
who  agreed  to  hire  us,  at  an  exorbitant  price,  a  conveyance  to 
take  us  to  Bardstown,  whence  we  might  make  our  way,  as 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  73 

chance  aided  us,  to  our  respective  destinations.  He  was  an  ex 
ceedingly  pious  man,  however,  and  would  not  consent  to  send 
out  his  teams  on  Sunday,  so  we  were  compelled  to  wait 
until  the  next  day. 

There  was  a  large  crowd  of  people  in  town.  Some  who  had 
come  to  attend  services  in  the  various  churches,  but  much  the 
greater  number  had  been  attracted  by  the  desire  to  hear  the 
news  and  talk  about  matters  of  much  more  moment  and  interest 
than  their  usual  topics  of  conversation.  Without  an  exception 
the  crowd  was  Southern  in  sentiment,  and  many  of  the  younger 
men  loudly  declared  their  intention  to  enlist  in  the  Confederate 
army  "so  soon  as  Buckner  came."  Encouraged  by  the  preva 
lence  of  a  feeling  so  much  in  unison  with  our  own,  we  made  no 
secret  of  our  own  proclivities  and  recent  antecedents.  Learning 
that  we  were  just  from  a  region  where  war  was  being  waged,  a 
host  of  eager  auditors  pressed  around  us,  listening  with  insatiable 
curiosity  and  touching  confidence  to  everything  we  chose  to 
tell.  I  must  admit  that  we  described  incidents  of  our  service 
in  Missouri  in  such  wise  that  other  eye-witnesses  of  the  same 
events  might  have  had  difficulty  in  identifying  them;  and  I 
should  regret  extremely  to  be  held  responsible  now  for  many 
very  startling  statements  which  I  made  then.  It  occurred  to 
me  that  I  could  find  no  better  occasion  to  recruit  the  cavalry 
command  I  had  been  so  anxious  to  raise,  and  Kennett,  from  a 
feeling  of  comradeship,  heartily  seconded  my  efforts. 

One  quite  serious  difficulty  presented  itself  upon  the  very 
threshold  of  my  enterprise.  While  nearly  every  man  to  whom  I 
mentioned  the  matter  wished  to  enter  the  Confederate  army 
a  clear  majority  wanted  to  be  captains,  and  would  consent  to 
go  to  war  on  no  other  terms.  I  represented,  as  well  as  I  could, 
that  a  company  or  squadron  composed  exclusively  of  officers 
would  be  rather  anomalous,  and  might  be  thrown  into  confusion 
by  some  unusual  or  unexpected  exigency,  but  my  arguments 
were  not  received  with  favour.  I  found  an  ally,  however,  in  the 
county  judge,  in  front  of  whose  office  the  most  important 
deliberations  were  conducted.  He  was  a  sensible,  hard-headed 
old  gentleman,  extremely  incredulous  upon  most  subjects,  but 
such  a  red-hot  rebel  that  he  would  believe  almost  anything 
told  him  on  the  Southern  side.  He  had  consequently  been  very 


74  REMINISCENCES  OF 

much  impressed  by  our  stories,  and  was  anxious  to  render  any 
assistance  he  could  to  warriors  of  so  much  experience.  Ascer 
taining  the  deep  interest  he  felt  in  driving  the  Yankees  out  of 
Kentucky,  I  had  already  suggested  to  him  a  plan  of  campaign 
with  the  capture  of  Louisville  as  its  ultimate  object,  to  be  inaugu 
rated  so  soon  as  the  two  companies  absolutely  essential  to  its 
success  could  be  recruited  and  organized.  I  frankly  admitted 
it  would  be  inexcusable  audacity  to  attempt  this  movement  with 
a  less  force  than  two  full  companies,  for  it  was  credibly  reported 
that  a  body  of  Federal  troops,  four  thousand  strong,  was  already 
on  the  march  between  Louisville  and  Elizabethtown.  It  was 
commanded  by  Sherman,  but  the  people  of  Kentucky  had  never 
heard  of  Sherman,  and  they  believed  it  to  be  commanded  by 
Rousseau,  of  whom  they  had  heard  a  great  deal.  The  details 
of  this  plan  —  that  is  to  say,  what  we  termed  such  —  had  been 
submitted  to  the  judge,  and  he  had  entirely  approved  them. 
He,  therefore,  strongly  espoused  our  -side,  and  finally,  late  in  the 
afternoon,  had  overcome  all  opposition  and  persuaded  the  most 
ambitious  and  recalcitrant  to  enlist  as  privates.  I  was  much 
Delated,  but  just  as  I  began  to  prepare  a  muster-roll  an  ominous 
and  appalling  sound  came  rolling  down  the  long  street,  at  one 
end  of  which  we  were  assembled.  It  was  the  hoarse,  threatening 
rattle  of  a  drum,  and  every  man  knew  at  once  that  the  Yankees 
were  upon  us.  Almost  immediately  a  fleeing  figure  appeared 
flashing  like  a  meteor  from  the  same  direction,  each  throbbing 
drum  note  behind  seeming  to  impel  it  to  additional  speed.  I 
can  see  that  earnest,  rapid  man  with  mental  vision  to-day  almost 
as  plainly  as  I  actually  saw  him  then.  He  wore  a  pink  and  blue 
striped  swallow-tailed  jeans  coat  and  baggy  breeches,  and  as 
he  whizzed  down  the  pike  his  loose  shoes  clattered  like  castanets. 
It  was  hard  to  understand  how  a  pair  of  eyes  could  protrude 
as  his  did,  and  yet  remain  in  their  sockets.  I  am  not  sure  that 
such  was  his  name,  but  some  one  remarked,  "Thar  comes  Ab 
Jenkins."  He  was  the  harbinger  of  dismay,  and,  as  he  drew 
near,  sent  his  voice  before  him  in  wild  warning,  "Save  your 
selves,  gentlemen,  Rouser's  in  town." 

I  have  rarely  witnessed  such  a  stampede  as  then  ensued,  and 
never  one  more  excusable.  The  bravest  men  may  be  pardoned 
for  demoralization  and  panic  if  they  are  not  only  surprised, 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  75 

but  attacked  before  they  are  enlisted.  The  men  who  were  to 
compose  the  two  companies  were  so  promptly  and  completely 
scattered  that  they  were  never  gotten  together  again.  The 
judge  made  a  dash  for  a  horse  which  was  hitched  near  by.  The 
bridle  was  knotted  tightly  to  the  post  —  a  pernicious  practice, 
for  no  man  can  say  when  it  may  be  necessary  to  use  a  horse  in 
a  hurry.  Unable  to  untie  the  knot  as  rapidly  as  the  emergency 
demanded,  the  judge  solved  the  problem  by  cutting  the  reins, 
and,  mounting,  fled  in  hot  haste  across  the  creek,  descending 
one  bluff  bank  and  leaping  to  the  top  of  another.  He  seemed  to 
be  simultaneously  on  both  sides  of  the  creek  and  splashing  through 
it,  darting  across  like  a  scared  black  snake  gliding  over  a  ditch. 
There  was  a  general  disposition  to  leave  town  and  "take  to 
the  woods,"  in  which  Kennett  and  I,  with  better  reason  than  the 
others,  heartily  shared;  so,  after  having  made  a  hasty  visit  to 
the  hotel  to  recover  our  slender  baggage,  but  more  especially 
certain  incriminatory  papers  which  were  among  our  effects, 
we  started  out  on  a  small  country  road  running  in  an  easterly 
direction  from  Elizabethtown,  and,  before  dark,  reached  a  house 
the  very  look  of  which  was  redolent  of  hospitality.  It  was  the 
residence  of  old  Major  English,  one  of  the  finest,  kindest  gentle 
men  in  Kentucky.  He  cheerfully  granted  our  request  to  be 
permitted  to  stay  all  night,  and,  as  we  were  not  long  in  discover 
ing  his  sentiments,  we  frankly  confessed  our  own.  On  the 
next  morning,  against  the  old  gentleman's  strong  protest,  who 
had  begun  to  feel  a  deep  interest  in  our  safety,  we  returned  to 
the  town.  We  encountered  a  good  many  soldiers,  but  were 
in  no  wise  molested.  When  we  asked  the  liveryman,  however, 
to  let  us  have  the  conveyance  for  which  we  had  contracted  we 
found  that  he  was  obstinately  determined  to  rue  the  bargain. 
He  was  greatly  alarmed  by  the  advent  of  the  Federals  and  feared 
to  have  dealings  with  unknown  parties  who  might  be  rebels 
in  disguise.  It  was  in  vain  that  we  assured  him  that  we  were 
inoffensive  citizens.  In  the  heat  of  reply  and  refusal  he  even 
forgot  his  religion  and  said:  "I  don't  care  ad  —  n  who  you  are, 
I'm  going  to  take  no  chances."  Kennett  was  about  to  indulge 
in  an  angry  remonstrance,  but  it  occurred  to  me  that  our  de 
liverances  of  the  previous  afternoon  might  have  gained  general 
circulation,  and  I  thought  it  best  to  let  the  matter  drop. 


76  REMINISCENCES  OF 

We  then  concluded  that  we  would  walk  along  the  railroad 
track  until  we  reached  some  point  where  we  might  catch  a  train. 
Quite  a  number  of  the  troops  were  bivouacked  on  both  sides 
of   the  road,  and  we  were  compelled  to  pass  through  them. 
I  cautioned  Kennett  not  to  call  me  by  name  or  do  anything  which 
might  especially  attract  attention.     I  had  learned  that  there 
were  several  Kentucky  regiments  in  this  force  —  many  of  the 
men  from  central  Kentucky  —  and  among  these  it  was  extremely 
probable  that  there  would  be  some  who  knew  me.     We  got 
through   safely,   and,   although   occasionally   "guyed,"   no  one 
halted  us.     I  believed  that  the  danger  was  past,  but  reckoned 
a  little  too  hastily.     Just  as  we  drew  near  the  entrance  to  the 
tunnel  at  Muldraugh's  Hill,  two  miles  north  of  Elizabethtown, 
a  hand-car  with  several  Federal  officers  upon  it,  overtook  us. 
We  stepped  aside  to  let  it  pass,  and  I  pulled  my  hat-brim  over 
my  face  to  avoid  possible  recognition.     But  Kennett,  moved 
by  an  impulse  of  pure  mischief,  called  out,  "Won't  you  let  us 
ride  with  you,  gentlemen?     We  are  very  foot-sore  and  tired." 
I  forgot  my  caution,  threw  back  my  hat,  and  looked  up  just 
as  the  car  came  alongside,  and  realized  that  I  was  face  to  face 
with  three  or  four  men  with  whom  I  was  well,  and  had  previously 
been   quite   pleasantly,    acquainted.     Among   them   were    Col. 
George    Jouett,    afterward    killed    at    Perryville,    and    Colonel 
subsequently,  Gen.  John  M.  Harlan,  since  one  of  the  most  dis 
tinguished  of  the  associate  justices    of  the  Supreme  Court  of 
the  United   States.     I   was   immediately   recognized,     and   my 
name  was  called  by  two  or  three  of  them,  accompanied  with 
expressions  of  surprise  at  my  presence  in  that  locality.     They 
also  imperatively  ordered  me  to  surrender.     I  tried  to  seem  as 
tonished  and  look  as  if  it  was  a  case  of  mistaken  identity,  but 
was  very  much  puzzled  about  what  I  should  do.     Greatly  to 
my  wonder  and  relief,  however,  the  car,  instead  of  being  stopped, 
rolled  on  into  the  tunnel.     When  I  saw  this  I  hurriedly  bade 
Kennett  good-bye,  sprang  up  the  side  of  the  cut,  which  was 
neither  steep  nor  very  high  at  the  point  where  I  happened  to 
be,  and  made  off  at  a  full  speed   through  a   field   of   standing 
corn.     By  the  time  that  the  hand-car  with  its  occupants  had 
returned  to  the  spot  I  had  so  rapidly  evacuated,  I  was  beyond 
immediate  pursuit. 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  77 

It  was  not  until  after  the  close  of  the  war  that  I  learned  how 
and  by  whom  my  escape  had  been  aided.  I  related  this  incident 
to  a  gentleman  in  Lexington  and  noticed  that  he  listened  with 
some  amusement,  as  well  as  interest.  When  I  had  finished  my 
story  he  informed  me  that  he  had  heard  it  before.  "John  Harlan 
told  me  of  it,"  he  said,  "just  after  it  happened,  and  it  is  to  him 
that  you  are  indebted  for  your  good  fortune  in  getting  off  as 
well  as  you  did."  When  Judge  Harlan  recognized  me  it  at  once 
occurred  to  him  that  I  was  trying  to  make  my  way  to  Lexington 
to  see  my  wife;  but  he  also  realized  that  if  captured  I  would 
be  in  great  peril  of  being  tried  and  punished  as  a  spy.  I  was 
dressed  in  citizen's  clothing  and  within  the  Federal  lines  on  no 
ostensible  military  business.  Under  ordinary  circumstances,  he 
would  have  taken  me  without  hesitation,  but  was  unwilling  that 
I  should  be  put  to  death  for  an  offence  of  which  he  believed  me 
innocent.  So  he  quietly  placed  his  foot  under  the  brake,  and 
the  efforts  of  his  companions  failed  to  stop  the  car.  Judge 
Harlan's  foot,  like  everything  in  his  make-up,  mental,  moral, 
and  physical,  is  constructed  on  a  liberal,  indeed,  a  grand  scale, 
and  might  affect  the  motion  of  a  passenger  coach,  not  to  mention 
a  hand-car.  It  was  an  exceedingly  generous  and  kindly  act,  and 
I,  of  course,  can  never  know  exactly  how  deeply  I  am 
indebted  to  him. 

Feeling  that  any  further  effort  to  reach  Lexington  at  that 
time  would  be  futile,  I  turned  southward  again,  to  get  back  as 
speedily  as  possible  into  Confederate  territory.  My  imme 
diate  safety  also  concerned  me,  for  I  had  reason  to  expect  that 
an  effort  to  find  and  capture  me  would  be  promptly  made. 
After  a  wide  and  toilsome  detour  about  Elizabethtown,  traversing 
the  most  obscure  and  difficult  paths  and  keeping  as  closely  as 
possible  under  cover,  I  at  length,  just  at  nightfall,  came  to  the 
turnpike  south  of  the  town  and  farther  out  than  I  supposed 
the  pickets  would  be  posted.  I  was  worn  down  with  fatigue 
and  applied  at  the  first  house  to  which  I  came  for  shelter  and 
supper.  The  owner,  a  tall,  raw-boned  man,  with  a  keen,  good- 
humoured  face,  smiled  quizzically  when  he  noticed  my  jaded 
and  travel-stained  appearance,  but  asked  no  questions.  He 
gave  me  something  to  eat  and  showed  me  to  a  room.  "You'll 
be  safe  here  to-night,"  he  said,  "but  you'd  better  get  away 


78  GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE 

before  daybreak."  Sure  enough,  he  had  me  up  and  started 
me  off  at  a  very  early  hour  the  next  morning.  I  learned  after 
ward  that  my  kind-hearted  host  was  the  only  Union  man  in  that 
neighbourhood,  and  that  he  had  strongly  suspected  me  of  being 
a  rebel,  but  it  was  his  instinct  to  help  any  one  who  was  in  need. 
I  afterward  had  the  opportunity  to  requite,  to  some  extent,  his 
good  services. 

After  another  long  tramp,  I  was  gratified  late  in  the  afternoon 
by  the  sight  of  our  outpost  videttes. 

Not  long  afterward  Capt.  John  H.  Morgan  came  with  his 
company,  the  Lexington  Rifles.  I  enlisted  in  it  and  was  elected 
first  lieutenant.  My  sporadic  service  ceased,  and  I  served 
until  the  close  of  the  war  in  a  more  regular  fashion. 


CHAPTER  IV 

WHO  of  the  Missourians  who  served  in  the  Confederate 
army  —  indeed  of  all  that  gallant  host  which  fought 
in  the  Trans-Mississippi  department  —  and  what  man 
among  those  who  endured  a  term  of  imprisonment  at  Fort  Dela 
ware  does  not  remember  Gen.  M.  Jeff  Thompson? 

At  the  beginning  of  the  unpleasantness  the  general,  who  had 
long  been  a  citizen  of  Missouri,  was  appointed  a  brigadier- 
general  in  the  state  guard  of  Missouri;  and,  although  he  served 
with  Confederate  troops  bravely  and  efficiently  to  the  close  of 
the  war,  he  never,  I  believe,  held  rank  in  the  Confederate  army. 
He  was  an  extremely  eccentric,  although  really  able  man,  and 
his  sharp  sayings  and  curious  adventures  would  fill  a  volume. 

My  acquaintance  began  with  him  at  Jefferson  City  at  the 
incipiency  of  the  troubles  in  Missouri,  but  I  saw  a  great  deal 
of  him  at  other  periods. 

During  the  summer  of  1861,  and  while  I  was  myself  a  member 
of  the  Missouri  state  guard,  for  it  was  before  any  part  of  Morgan's 
command  had  been  organized,  indeed  before  the  greater  number 
of  the  men  who  subsequently  composed  it  had  been  enlisted,  I 
had  an  experience  with  General  Thompson  which  I  have 
often  remembered,  if  not  with  satisfaction,  at  least  with  amuse 
ment.  General  Hardee  was  then  at  Pocahontas,  Ark.,  near  the 
Missouri  line, 'with  seven  thousand  or  eight  thousand  men,  and 
was  contemplating  an  advance  on  St.  Louis. 

Returning  from  Kentucky,  I  found  it  more  difficult  to  reach 
General  Price's  command,  which  was  in  south-western  Missouri, 
than  I  had  supposed  it  would  be,  and  was  easily  induced  by 
Colonel,  afterward  Gen.  John  S.  Marmaduke,  and  other 
friends  whom  I  found  there,  to  sojourn  at  Pocahontas  and  witness 
the  projected  movement  on  St.  Louis.  I  was  immediately  put 
on  service,  instructed  first  to  report  to  Colonel  Hindman  and 
perform  whatever  duty  that  energetic  officer  might  assign  me, 
and  subsequently  given  a  quasi  position  on  General  Hardee's 

79 


8o  REMINISCENCES  OF 

staff.  I  was  charged  in  this  latter  capacity  to  accompany  most 
of  the  scouting  expeditions  and  keep  General  Hardee  informed 
regarding  the  conditions  obtaining  in  our  front.  After  some  two 
or  three  weeks'  experience  in  this  service,  and  having  become 
pretty  thoroughly  acquainted  with  the  situation,  I  asked  General 
Hardee  to  permit  me  to  undertake  a  certain  expedition.  I 
wanted  to  burn  the  Meramee  Bridge  on  the  Iron  Mountain 
Railroad,  about  twenty  miles  from  St.  Louis,  and  guarded  only 
by  a  small  garrison.  The  general  was  perfectly  willing  that  I 
should  undertake  it,  but  there  were  obstacles  in  the  way  that 
even  his  authority  could  not  remove.  I  requested  that  two 
companies  of  cavalry  should  be  placed  under  my  command  for 
the  purpose  of  the  expedition.  The  colonels  did  not  fancy  this, 
and  the  captains  of  the  companies  very  naturally  objected  to 
serving  under  a  man  younger  than,  and  quite  as  inexperienced 
as,  themselves,  and  who,  also,  held  only  militia  rank  while  they  had 
Confederate  commissions.  So  while  various  excuses  were  made, 
the  result  was  that  every  application  I  made  for  the  troops  was 
defeated.  General  Hardee  at  length  suggested  that  I  go  to  work 
and  recruit  two  companies  of  my  own;  and,  inasmuch  as  he 
desired  to  send  -despatches  to  General  Thompson,  who  was 
encamped  about  eighty  miles  distant  in  south-eastern  Missouri, 
he  further  suggested  that  I  should  bear  the  despatches  and 
endeavour  to  induce  two  companies  of  the  militia  under  General 
Thompson  to  enter  the  Confederate  service.  He  kindly  prom 
ised  that  if  I  succeeded  he  would  see  that  the  companies  would 
be  properly  and  amply  equipped.  I  was  greatly  rejoiced  and 
gladly  started  on  the  mission.  In  two  days  I  was  in  General 
Jeff  Thompson's  camp  and  duly  delivered  the  despatches.  I 
employed  the  next  day  in  a  sort  of  inspection,  preliminary  to  the 
execution  of  the  principal  object  I  had  in  view.  General  Thomp 
son  had  under  his  command  nearly  three  thousand  men,  and 
splendid  fellows  they  were.  They  afterward  belonged  to  that 
contingent  which  Missouri  furnished  the  Confederate  army,  and 
which  on  so  many  bloody  fields  sustained  the  reputation  of  their 
state  and  added  lustre  to  the  Confederate  glory.  But  at  this 
time,  while  anxious  to  fight  for  the  South,  they  entertained  a 
strange  repugnance  to  enlisting  in  the  Confederate  army.  They 
wished  to  preserve  their  status  as  state  militia. 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  81 

After  a  day  or  two  I  formally  declared  my  wishes  to  General 
Thompson  and  asked  his  permission  to  recruit  such  men  as  he 
might  be  willing  to  have  go.  He  answered  very  cordially  that 
he  had  no  objection  at  all,  and  that  I  had  his  full  leave  to  take 
all  the  men  I  could  persuade  to  enlist.  But  he  said  that  it  would 
be  not  only  a  difficult  task  but  a  dangerous  one. 

"Now  there  was  a  fellow  here  the  other  day,"  he  said,  "from 
Arkansas,  on  the  same  mission.  He  also  was  ignorant  of  the 
prejudice  the  men  feel  against  quitting  the  service  of  the  state  and 
entering  that  of  the  Confederacy,  and  he  wasn't  as  prudent  as 
you  have  been.  He  didn't  first  come  and  consult  with  me, 
but  went  to  work  his  own  way.  The  result  was  that  he  hadn't 
been  talking  more  than  half  an  hour  when  the  whole  camp  rose 
on  him  and  ran  him  into  the  swamp.  He  got  away  by  the  skin 
of  his  teeth,  but  they  fired  at  him  by  platoons,  and  chased  him 
God  knows  how  far.  I  don't  know  what's  become  of  him.  I 
haven't  heard  from  him  for  two  days,  but  from  the  report  of  the 
rate  at  which  he  was  then  going  I'm  inclined  to  think  that  if  he 
hasn't  been  killed  he  must  be  somewhere  in  Texas  by  this  time. 

"However,  I  wouldn't  discourage  you  for  the  world.  I  like 
your  patriotic  spirit  and  want  to  help  you  if  I  can.  Let  me  beg 
you,  however,  to  be  discreet.  When  you  get  ready  to  talk 
to  these  fellows  have  your  horse  where  you  can  reach  him  handy. 

"And,  by  the  way,  I'll  tell  you  what  I'll  do.  On  some  pretext 
or  another  I'll  get  the  men  down  to  one  end  of  the  camp,  so  that 
after  you  have  made  your  proposition  they'll  have  to  go  back 
some  distance  for  their  guns,  and  you  can  get  a  good  start. 
Keep  a  close  watch  out  for  the  camp  guards,  however,  and  steer 
clear  of  the  pickets.  Then,  if  your  horse  don't  fail  you,  it's 
possible  you  may  get  away.  When  would  you  like  to  make  your 
speech?  Will  to-morrow  be  soon  enough?" 

I  told  General  Thompson  that  upon  reflection  it  seemed  to  me 
that  I  had  better  let  the  matter  drop.  It  was  really  wrong  to 
deprive  him  and  the  State  of  Missouri  of  such  soldiers.  I  thanked 
him  for  his  hospitable  reception. 

"But,  general,"  I  said,  "I  hope  you  won't  mention  this  con 
versation  to  any  one  while  I'm  in  your  camp.  I'm  a  modest 
man  and  dislike  to  attract  any  particular  or  pointed  attention 
to  myself.  Moreover,  I've  become  satisfied  that  I  couldn't 


82  REMINISCENCES  OF 

make  a  success  as  a  recruiting  officer.  So,  instead  of  making  a 
speech  to  your  men  to-morrow,  I'll  take  leave  as  soon  after  an 
early  breakfast  as  possible." 

For  some  months  before  the  evacuation  of  Memphis,  General 
Thompson,  although  his  bailiwick  was  yet  in  south-eastern  Mis 
souri,  made  his  personal  headquarters  in  that  city,  and  shone 
with  even  more  than  the  usual  effulgence  of  the  state  guard 
brigadier,  who,  amenable  to  no  particular  authority,  demeaned 
himself  as  if  he  were  clad  with  it  all.  His  brigade  was  encamped 
some  twenty-five  or  thirty  miles  above  Memphis,  on  the  western 
side  of  the  river,  and  while  passing  the  night  in  the  city  he  punc 
tually  visited  his  camp  every  day.  He  had  organized  what  he 
called  a  "canoe  fleet,"  and  by  some  means  had  gotten  possession 
of  a  small  tug  boat,  which  he  termed  his  "flag-ship."  He  would 
steam  up  the  river  every  morning,  drill  his  troops  and  attend  to 
the  policing  and  care  of  his  camp  all  day  —  for  he  was  a  careful 
and  efficient  officer  —  and  return  to  Memphis  in  the  evening 
in  time  to  patronize  the  theatres  and  other  places  of  amusement. 
Attended  by  a  numerous  and  very  "gay"  staff,  riding  a  spotted 
stallion  which  he  called  Sardanapalus,  with  a  gigantic  and  truc 
ulent-looking  Canadian  Indian  who  answered  to  the  name  of 
Ajax,  for  his  orderly,  General  Thompson  and  his  train  were 
always  in  evidence  and  the  objects  of  ever-curious  observation. 
Ajax  habitually  wore  a  gorgeous  suit  of  black  velvet,  a  headdress 
of  eagle  feathers,  and  a  belt  with  imitation  scalp  locks  dangling 
from  it.  It  was  a  favourite  trick  of  the  general  to  have  Ajax 
enter  the  theatre,  when  it  happened  to  be  especially  crowded, 
and,  with  hurried  mien,  hand  him  a  despatch.  Then  the  general 
would  spring  to  his  feet  and  dash  for  the  door,  followed  by  his 
staff.  On  two  or  three  such  occasions  the  audience  became 
greatly  excited,  thinking  that  General  Thompson  had  received 
stirring  news  from  "the  front"  and  expecting  to  hear  of  immediate 
battle.  After  frequent  repetition,  however,  people  placed 
another  construction  upon  this  conduct,  and  actually  came  to  the 
conclusion  that  it  was  a  device  by  which  general  and  staff  could 
conveniently  get  out  for  "another  drink";  and  quite  often  irrev 
erent  voices  would  shout:  "General,  take  one  for  me." 

During  this  time  some  English  military  officers  came  to  Mem 
phis  and  expressed  a  desire  to  visit  the  encampments  in  that 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  83 

vicinity,  and  see  something  of  the  Confederate  soldiery.  General 
Thompson  at  once  took  charge  of  them.  He  had  much  to  say 
about  the  excellence  of  his  own  command;  and  asserted  that, 
state  troops  though  they  were,  and  therefore  comparatively 
inadequately  equipped,  his  fellows  were  by  far  the  best  soldiers 
in  point  of  instruction  and  discipline  in  the  West.  He  invited 
the  Englishmen  to  satisfy  themselves  of  the  accuracy  of  his 
statement  by  ocular  proofs,  and  appointed  a  date,  at  their  sug 
gestion,  when  they  should  inspect  his  brigade.  On  the  day 
before  this  inspection  he  sent  staff  officers  to  the  camp  with  orders 
to  have  the  men  practise  all  night  forming  by  companies,  in 
front  of  their  respective  grounds. 

He  had  informed  the  Englishmen,  however,  that  he  intended 
to  surprise  the  camp,  so  that  they  might  perceive  the  ease  and 
rapidity  with  which  his  men  could  perform  impromptu  evolutions; 
and  hinted  that  lack  of  time  and  of  suitable  ground  in  the  vicinity 
was  all  that  prevented  him  from  putting  up  a  brigade  drill  better 
than  any  they  had  ever  witnessed  in  Hyde  Park  or  on  the  Champ 
de  Mars. 

But  he  had  one  company,  known  as  "The  Dunklin  County 
Dead  Shots,"  which  was  commanded  by  an  ex-sheriff,  an  ex 
cellent  officer  in  some  respects,  but  who  could  never  acquire  the 
least  smattering  of  drill,  and  always  persisted  in  substituting 
his  own  very  peculiar  phraseology  for  the  proper  words  of  com 
mand.  General  Thompson,  fearing  some  solecism  on  the  part 
of  this  officer,  had  strictly  enjoined  that  he  and  his  company 
should  be  sent,  on  the  day  of  inspection,  "seven  miles"  out  into 
the  swamp,  and  on  no  account  to  be  allowed  to  return  until  the 
parade  was  over. 

On  the  appointed  morning  the  "flag-ship"  steamed  away  from 
Memphis  with  the  military  tourists  on  board,  and  in  due  time 
arrived  at  the  encampment.  The  party  disembarked,  and, 
approaching  the  sentries,  were  duly  saluted,  the  guard  was 
turned  out,  drums  were  beaten  and  all  seemed  well.  As  they 
walked  leisurely  through  the  lanes  of  tents  the  companies  sprang 
to  arms  and  formed  like  clockwork.  Some  of  the  men  were 
pale  and  somewhat  fatigued  from  having  gone  through  with 
the  same  thing  all  night;  but,  of  course,  the  strangers  detected 
nothing  suspicious.  The  programme  worked  like  a  charm.  The 


84  REMINISCENCES  OF 

visitors  were  profuse  of  compliments,  which  Jeff  received  mod 
estly,  but  with  an  air  of  conscious  desert.  The  inspection 
was  nearly  concluded,  and  success  seemed  certain,  when  suddenly 
a  mighty  and  appalling  voice  arose  which  smote  the  Englishmen 
with  amazement  and  General  Thompson  with  consternation. 
The  order  to  remove  the  ex-sheriff  and  his  company  had  been 
forgotten  or  neglected.  There  he  stood,  as  they  passed  around 
a  clump  of  bushes,  standing  on  a  stump  in  all  the  majesty  of 
command.  He  waved  a  hickory  rammer  around  his  head  and 
shouted  in  tones  that  would  have  drowned  a  steam  whistle: 
"Oh,  yes!  Oh,  yes!  Oh,  yes!  All  you  Dunklin  Dead  Shots 
fall  into  li-on  on  the  end  of  this  log,  tell  the  gin'ral  and  them 
Britishers  passes." 

Some  of  my  readers  will  doubtless  remember  that  in  the 
summer  of  1861,  before  hostilities  had  fairly  commenced  in 
Tennessee,  or  war  had  taken  definite  shape  in  that  region,  a 
rendezvous  for  the  Kentuckians  who  wished  to  join  the  Confed 
erate  army  was  established  at  a  point  not  far  distant  from 
Nashville,  on  the  Kentucky  and  Tennessee  line.  This  place  of 
refuge  and  enlistment  was  named  "Camp  Boone,"  and  men  were 
assembled  and  recruited  there  who  subsequently  became  at 
tached  to  the  regiments  which  composed  the  Kentucky  Infantry, 
better  known  as  the  "Orphan  Brigade,"  so  justly  famous  in 
Confederate  history. 

Colonel,  afterward  General,  Loyd  Tighlman,  a  former  officer  of 
the  regular  army,  was  in  command  of  this  camp,  and  from  him 
the  "boys"  received  their  first  and  most  salutary  lessons  in 
discipline. 

Of  course  a  great  deal  of  interest  and  curiosity  about  this  camp 
was  immediately  aroused  in  all  the  surrounding  country.  The 
number,  the  condition,  and  the  purpose  of  the  force  collected 
there  were  matters  of  constant  and  excited  speculation,  and 
were  vastly  exaggerated  in  popular  rumour.  The  general 
consensus  of  opinion  was  to  the  effect  that  it  was  an  army  several 
thousand  strong  of  veteran  soldiers  —  how  they  had  become 
veterans  no  one  stopped  to  consider  —  splendidly  armed  and 
equipped,  which  in  due  time  would  over-run  Kentucky,  capture 
Cincinnati  and  then  make  a  "flank  movement"  on  Washington 
City.  Finally  the  Southern  sympathizers  of  Hopkinsville,  Ky., 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  85 

determined  to  positively  ascertain  what  was  there  and  what  was 
going  to  be  done;  wishing  to  lend  such  assistance  as  they 
could  if  an  effort  to  occupy  Kentucky  with  Confederate  troops 
was  intended. 

They  held  a  meeting  and  selected  one  of  their  number  to  pro 
ceed  to  Camp  Boone  and  obtain  the  information  desired.  The 
name  of  this  gentleman  was  Scott,  one  of  the  best  and  most 
respected  citizens  of  Hopkinsville  and  a  very  intelligent  man, 
but,  like  every  one  else  at  that  time,  totally  ignorant  of  all 
military  matters.  Mr.  Scott  reported  to  Colonel  Tighlman,  who 
received  him  quite  cordially  and  showed  him  everything  that  was 
to  be  seen  in  the  camp.  There  were  about  seven  hundred  men 
there,  armed  with  one  hundred  and  fifty  flint-lock  muskets. 
The  largest  body  of  soldiers  Scott  had  ever  previously  seen  was 
the  Clarksville  guards.  On  the  4th  of  July  last  past  he  had 
witnessed  that  gallant  corps  —  sixty-five  strong,  not  counting 
the  captain  —  march  down  the  streets  of  Clarksville  in  serried 
column,  with  two  drummers  and  a  bandy-legged  fifer  playing 
alternately  "Stump-tailed  Dolly"  and  the  "Girl  I  Left  Behind 
Me."  So  when  he  saw  these  seven  hundred  men  together  Scott 
thought  that  the  beneficent  heavens  had  been  fairly  raining 
Confederate  soldiers;  and  the  fact  that  nearly  three  fourths  of 
them  were  unarmed  was  a  little  matter  which  he  totally  over 
looked.  He  was  greatly  impressed  and  elated  with  this  formid 
able  array,  for  he  was  an  ardent  rebel.  Colonel  Tighlman, 
however,  enjoined  on  him  the  necessity  of  the  utmost  caution, 
and  reticence.  "More  wars  have  been  lost,  Mr.  Scott," 
said  Tighlman,  "by  loose  and  indiscreet  talk  than  by  all  other 
causes  combined,  therefore  while  I'll  let  you  see  and  hear  every 
thing,  I  must  request  you  to  disclose  nothing  that  you  learn 
here  to  any  one. " 

Scott  gave  the  required  promise,  and  when  he  returned  home 
would  tell  nothing.  The  committee  which  had  sent  him,  begged 
with  tears  in  their  eyes,  that  the  information  he  was  despatched  to 
obtain  might  be  given  them,  but  he  was  obdurate.  "No, 
gentlemen,"  he  said,  "I  can't  tell  you.  Colonel  Tighlman  and  I 
agreed  that  it  wouldn't  be  safe  to  let  any  one  else  know  what  he 
and  I  know. "  So  the  committee  was  worse  off  than  if  it  had  never 
sent  an  agent  to  Camp  Boone  at  all. 


86  REMINISCENCES  OF 

Finally  some  one  suggested  that  a  particular  friend  and  former 
partner  in  business  of  Scott  should  be  sent  for.  This  gentle 
man  was  supposed  to  have  great  influence  with  him,  and  it  was 
thought  that  if  any  one  could  extract  the  much-wanted  story 
John  J.  Fisher  was  the  man  to  do  it.  A  telegram  was  rushed  to 
Fisher  at  Louisville  and  he  came  post  haste  to  Hopkinsville. 
When  informed  of  what  he  was  expected  to  do,  he  became  as 
eager  as  any  of  the  others,  and  tackled  Scott  without  delay; 
but  Scott,  although  with  obvious  reluctance  and  sorrow,  re 
fused  also  to  confide  in  him.  At  length,  however,  apparently 
moved  by  Fisher's  pleading  entreaties,  Scott  said  that  if  Fisher 
would  meet  him  that  afternoon  at  six  o'clock  at  a  certain  point 
on  the  Cadiz  road,  about  a  mile  from  town,  he  would  tell  him 
"something."  Fisher  was  at  the  appointed  spot  an  hour  ahead 
of  time,  and,  just  at  six  o'clock,  Scott  arrived.  He  took  Fisher 
off  into  the  woods,  at  least  one  hundred  yards  from  the  road, 
and  backed  him  up  behind  a  big  tree.  Then  he  said,  with  great 
solemnity: 

"John  J.  Fisher!  I've  known  you  for  more  than  forty  years, 
and  I'd  tell  you  things  that  I  wouldn't  tell  any  other  livin'  man : 
but  there  are  some  things  I  can't  even  tell  you.  But  I'll  say  this 
much  to  you:  If  old  Abe  Lincoln  had  seen  what  I  saw  down  at 
Camp  Boone  he'd  'a'  thought  he  had  a  mighty  heavy  contract 
on  his  hands." 

The  attitude  which  the  soldiers  of  Morgan's  command  and 
those  of  some  of  the  Kentucky  Federal  cavalry  regiments  held 
toward  each  other  during  the  greater  part  of  the  Civil  War,  was 
of  a  kind  which  would  have  been  termed  by  martinets  "highly" 
irregular  and  prejudicial,  if  not  to  efficiency,  at  least  to  all  mili 
tary  etiquette.  Indeed,  every  one  cognizant  of  these  relations 
was  compelled  to  admit  that  they  were  unusual  and  peculiar, 
and  could  have  obtained  in  the  volunteer  service  only. 

This  was  especially  the  case  with  regard  to  the  Second 
Kentucky  Cavalry,  C.  S.  A.,  of  which  regiment  Morgan  was  the 
first  colonel,  and  the  First  Kentucky  Cavalry,  U.  S.  A.,  which 
Col.  Frank  Wolford  so  long  and  gallantly  commanded.  The 
"differences"  between  the  men  of  these  two  very  active  bodies  of 
"light  horse,"  like  those  of  Gabriel  and  Lucifer  in  Byron's 
"Vision  of  Judgment,"  were  "purely  political,"  and  did  not 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  87 

seem  to    affect     their    persona?     and    "social"     relations     in 
the    least. 

Morgan's  regiment  was  recruited  principally  from  the  Blue- 
grass  region  and  central  Kentucky.  Wolford's  principally  from 
south-western  Kentucky;  and  each  was  composed  of  material 
very  similar  in  character  —  reckless,  dare-devil  youngsters,  al 
ways  eager  for  adventure  and  excitement,  who  if  they  had  not 
"charity  for  all,"  certainly  bore  little  "malice  to  none."  These 
two  regiments  made  each  other's  acquaintance  at  a  very  early 
period  of  the  war  —  an  acquaintance  which  continued  with 
scarcely  any  intermission  until  the  close  of  the  Ohio  raid.  They 
fought  frequently,  for  as  they  were  engaged  in  the  same  sort  of 
service,  reconnoitring  and  scouting  in  front  of  their  respective 
armies,  they  often  came  in  collision.  Their  combats  were  sharp 
and  closely  contested,  but  the  prisoners  taken  on  either  side 
were  always  treated  with  the  utmost  kindness  and  consideration, 
until  a  strange  sort  of  friendship  grew  up  between  them. 

Between  Morgan  and  Wolford  especially  there  was  a  warm 
and  mutual  regard.  In  our  numerous  encounters  with  him 
"Old  Frank"  was  more  than  once  wounded,  as  much  to  our 
regret  perhaps  as  his  own.  When  Morgan  was  captured  in 
Ohio,  Wolford,  who  had  been  foremost,  indefatigable  in  his  pur 
suit,  made  every  effort  to  have  him  paroled  and  exchanged,  and 
on  more  than  one  occasion  was  involved  in  quarrels  with  the 
angry  crowds  which  threatened  Morgan  on  his  way  to  prison. 

One  of  the  majors  of  Wolford's  regiment  was  W.  A.  Coffee. 
In  appearance  he  was  a  typical  Kentuckian  of  the  older  gener 
ation,  considerably  over  six  feet  in  height  and  of  massive,  well- 
proportioned  figure.  His  broad,  good-humoured  face  was  con 
stantly  irradiated  with  smiles,  which  on  the  slightest  provocation 
developed  into  explosive  and  contagious  laughter.  He  was  a 
brave,  generous,  and  thoroughly  true  man. 

On  May  5,  1862,  Morgan's  command,  then  about  three  hun 
dred  strong,  was  attacked  by  a  brigade  of  Federal  cavalry  under 
General  Dumont,  at  Lebanon,  Tenn.,  and  badly  cut  up.  In  this 
engagement  Wolford  was  seriously  wounded.  Morgan  lost, 
besides  killed  and  wounded,  more  than  one  hundred  prisoners, 
but  rallying  the  remnant  of  his  command,  set  out  in  a  day  or 
two  for  Kentucky,  with  the  hope  of  rescuing  the  men  who  had 


88  REMINISCENCES  OF 

been  captured.  He  intercepted  and  seized  a  north-bound  train 
on  the  Louisville  &  Nashville  Railroad  near  Cave  City,  Ky., 
expecting  to  find  his  men  on  it.  In  this,  he  was  disappointed, 
but  found  it  laden  with  a  number  of  Federal  officers  and  soldiers 
of  different  regiments. 

None  of  these,  save  one,  offered  resistance,  but  he  ensconced 
near  the  door  of  one  of  the  coaches,  delivered  a  warm  fire  on  the 
assailants  until  his  two  revolvers  were  exhausted.  Then,  as 
the  bullets  were  splintering  the  wood-work  and  smashing  the  glass 
about  his  head,  the  door  was  thrown  open  and  out  stepped 
Major  Coffee  on  the  platform.  With  a  shout  of  laughter  he 
called  out: 

"Stop  firing,  boys!  I'm  out  of  ammunition  and  have  con 
cluded  to  quit." 

The  prisoners,  including  Coffee,  were  paroled,  but  with  the 
understanding  that  if  not  exchanged  within  a  certain  period 
they  would  report  to  Morgan  within  the  Confederate  lines. 

The  Federal  authorities,  however,  refused  to  recognize  any 
such  obligation,  and  directed  all  those  so  paroled  to  immediately 
report  for  duty  to  their  respective  commands.  All,  with  the 
exception  of  Coffee,  did  so.  He  declared  that,  while  his  services, 
and  his  life,  if  necessary,  were  due  the  government  under  whose 
flag  he  had  enlisted,  his  word  was  his  own  and  he  would  not 
break  it.  He  accordingly  made  his  way  through  the  lines  and 
reported  to  Morgan  at  Knoxville  as  prisoner.  Such  conduct 
was  of  course,  very  highly  appreciated  and  applauded  by  us,  and 
made  Coffee  as  popular  with  the  other  Southern  soldiers  there  as 
with  Morgan's  men.  He  was  permitted  absolute  freedom  of 
movement,  and  Colonel  Morgan  had  him  as  his  guest  at  the 
hotel,  where  he,  Morgan,  was  quartered  during  our  sojourn  at 
Knoxville.  The  gallant  major  conducted  himself  much  as  if  he 
had  forgotten  that  he  was  an  enemy  and  had  become  one  of  us. 

After  a  week  or  ten  days,  however,  Gen.  Kirby  Smith,  who 
was  then  in  command  of  that  department,  with  his  headquarters 
at  Knoxville,  sent  for  Colonel  Morgan  to  talk  with  .him  about 
Coffee.  The  general  said  that  he  was  much  pleased  with  the 
manner  in  which  Coffee  had  behaved,  and  desired  to  show  him 
every  courtesy  and  indulgence.  But  he  did  not  think  that  the 
perfect  liberty  allowed  him  and  the  free  and  easy  way  in  which 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  89 

matters,  however  confidential,  were  discussed  in  his  presence, 
exactly  accorded  with  military  usage  and  the  treatment  a  pris 
oner  should  receive  even  when  on  parole.  It  was  his  intention, 
therefore,  he  said,  to  send  the  major  to  Richmond  to  be  disposed 
of  by  the  authorities  there.  Morgan  remonstrated,  but  without 
avail.  General  Smith  promised  kind  treatment  on  the  way  to 
Richmond,  and  until  Coffee  was  out  of  his  hands,  and  also  that 
he  would  exert  himself  to  procure  favour  for  him  afterward. 

Morgan  returned  from  the  interview  in  a  state  of  great  indig 
nation.  He  summoned  me  at  once  to  confer  about  a  plan  he  was 
already  formulating  for  Coffee's  benefit.  He  declared  that  it 
was  shameful  that  a  man  who  had  behaved  so  honourably  should 
be  sent  to  prison,  and  proposed  to  despatch  him  "on  a  good 
horse,"  and  with  a  reliable  escort  to  Kentucky. 

"Coffee  is  my  prisoner,"  he  said," and  I  have  a  right  to  dis 
pose  of  him  as  I  think  best." 

I  ventured  a  mild  dissent  from  this  view  of  the  case,  and  op 
posed  his  plan  for  other  reasons.  I  insisted  that  every  one  at 
Richmond  would  be  just  as  favourably  impressed  by  Coffee's 
conduct  as  the  people  of  Knoxville  had  been,  and  that  he  would 
not  be  sent  to  prison,  but  that  he  would  certainly  be  ex 
changed.  I  pointed  out  that  what  he  proposed  to  do  would  be 
a  grave  breach  of  discipline  and  might  lead  to  his  dismissal  from 
the  service;  but  it  was  difficult  to  persuade  him  that  what  he 
wished  to  do  in  the  matter  could  be  so  characterized.  Finally 
I  suggested  that  we  should  consult  Coffee  himself  and  learn  what 
he  thought  of  it. 

We  accordingly  laid  the  matter  before  him.  He  listened  at 
tentively  and  then  remarked  emphatically: 

"Colonel  Morgan,  if  I  consent  to  what  you  propose,  it  may 
result  in  your  being  court-martialed,  and  I'll  never  let  a  friend 
get  into  trouble  on  my  account  if  I  can  prevent  it.  Moreover,  I 
don't  think  I'll  be  sent  to  Libby  Prison.  I  believe  I  will  be  ex 
changed,  and  I'd  like  to  go  to  Richmond  and  see  the  sights  there." 

This  closed  the  debate  and  Coffee  was  sent  to  Richmond. 
General  Smith  wrote  strongly  to  the  authorities  in  his  behalf,  and 
Morgan  wrote  his  friends  to  render  all  possible  help.  He  remained 
in  Richmond  for  several  days,  receiving  every  attention  during 
that  time,  and  was  then  sent  North,  and  on  special  exchange. 


90  REMINISCENCES  OF 

Some  months  after  the  close  of  the  war  I  was  in  New  York, 
and  one  evening,  at  a  hotel  much  frequented  by  Southerners 
and  Kentuckians,  I  heard  a  howl  of  recognition,  and,  turning  to 
see  who  it  was,  fell  into  the  arms  of  Coffee.  After  some  general 
conversation  I  inquired  about  his  visit  to  Richmond. 

"It  was  the  greatest  event  of  my  life,"  he  said," I  can  never 
forget  the  kindness  shown  me,  and  the  only  thing  to  mar  my 
pleasure  was  that  I  couldn't  conscientiously  be  a  rebel." 

Modern  English  and  American  literature  has  furnished  abun 
dant  example  of  that  sort  of  humour  which  quaint  and  exag 
gerated  language,  independent  of  the  idea  it  may  express, 
usually  furnishes;  and  the  story  is  rendered  amusing  either  by 
the  peculiar  dialect  in  which  it  is  related  or  by  the  big  words  and 
pompous  phrases  which  the  narrator  is  made  to  employ,  most 
often  entirely  out  of  place,  but  all  the  more  ludicrous  and  de 
lightful  for  that  reason.  From  Shakespeare's  time  to  that  of 
Artemus  Ward  and  Petroleum  V.  Nasby  a  host  pf  readers 
have  been  entertained  by  these  sapient  solecisms,  and  we  find 
them  refreshing,  whether  uttered  by  Dogberry,  Sarah  Gamp, 
Mrs.  Partington,  or  more  recent  and  obscure  enunciators  of  such 
pleasant  nonsense. 

Very  many  men  entirely  unknown  to  fame,  either  in  fact  or 
fiction,  have  excelled  in  this  regard;  every  reader  of  these  lines 
can  doubtless  recall  some  such  character.  I  have  known  quite 
a  number  of  them,  but  one  especially,  with  whom  I  became 
acquainted  in  the  army,  could  have  held  his  own,  I  believe,  in 
grandiloquent  and  platitudinous  speech  with  the  most  ac 
complished  masters  of  the  art.  It  was  not  because  he  used  such 
remarkably  big  words  or  used  them  always  inappropriately. 
Indeed,  his  language  generally  aptly  conveyed  his  meaning;  but 
he  would  announce  the  baldest  propositions  and  communicate 
the  most  ordinary  information  in  an  ornate,  oracular  way  and  in 
diction  so  impressive  that  his  comrades  around  the  camp  fires 
often  heard  him  with  a  kind  of  awe.  He  had,  too,  an  apparently 
polite  but  disagreeably  frank  manner  of  resenting  any  difference 
of  opinion  that  would  overawe  all  but  the  most  audacious  and 
veteran  disputants.  He  had  practised  law  for  some  years, 
and  thereby  enlarged  both  his  vocabulary  and  his  assurance. 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  91 

While  only  an  enlisted  man,  his  having  been  detailed  as  forage 
master  of  his  regiment  caused  him  to  be  dubbed  "captain," 
and  he  was  called  "for  short"  "Captain  Sam." 

I  listened  on  one  occasion  with  much  edification  to  an  exceed 
ingly  able  debate  which  he  conducted  with  an  orator  (a  good  deal 
of  his  own  style)  in  respect  to  the  most  politic  method  which 
the  Southern  states  might  have  adopted  in  their  withdrawal  from 
the  Union. 

The  other  party  to  the  discussion  was  a  planter  who  lived  in 
the  neighbourhood  of  the  camp,  and  had  come  to  it  to  visit 
certain  acquaintances.  None  of  the  captain's  comrades  would 
have  ventured  to  tackle  him,  but  the  stranger,  who  was  an  oracle 
and  a  "power"  in  his  community,  rushed  in  where  soldiers  "feared 
to  tread. "  As  well  as  I  can  now  remember,  this  gentleman-,  with 
fluent  and  amazing  eloquence  and  a  logic  which  was  entirely 
convincing  to  himself,  contended  that  the  Southern  states 
should  not  have  seceded  after  the  fashion  which  they  followed 
in  that  regard,  but  should  have  adopted  the  plan  of  "coopera 
tion.  "  Captain  Sam,  on  the  contrary,  insisted  that  the  method 
adopted,  of  each  state  separately  seceding  with  a  magnanimous 
disregard  of  concerted  action  and  consequences,  was  not  only 
in  consonance  with  political  ethics,  but  was  right  as  a  matter 
of  expediency. 

The  subject  was  treated  in  a  wonderful  and  exhaustive  style 
on  both  sides.  In  the  long  run,  however,  the  stranger's  enthusi 
asm  and  vehement  delivery  were  completely  borne  down  by  the 
captain's  steady,  undisturbed  and  unruffled  utterance.  Cap 
tain  Sam  never  permitted  himself  to  become  excited  or  hurried. 
His  calm,  concentrated,  conclusive  talk  always  bored  into  the 
matter  in  controversy  like  an  augur.  He  went  at  the  most 
difficult  topic  like  an  anaconda  swallowing  a  goat,  never 
losing  confidence  or  slackening  effort  because  either  of  hide  or 
horn.  Finally  his  opponent,  losing  temper,  shouted  a  savage 
remonstrance. 

"By  blank,  captain,"  he  said,  "you  don't  give  me  any  chance 
at  all  to  present  my  side  of  the  question.  You  talk  all  the  time 
yourself.  You  won't  let  another  man  slip  in  a  word  edgewise. 
If  you  just  let  me  have  the  floor  for  five  minutes  I'll  absolutely 
demolish  every  position  you've  taken.  I'll  convince  even  you, 


92  REMINISCENCES  OF 

sir,  that  your  arguments  are  conceived  in  ignorance  and  absurd 
ity,  and  are  dangerous  and  debauching  to  the  best  interests  of 
the  Confederacy.  Now  give  me  a  chance. " 

"I'll  do  it,"  responded  the  captain  in  his  serenest  tones  and 
with  a  pitying  smile.  "I'll  give  you  the  floor.  Go  on,  sir:  go 
on  and  say  your  d  —  dest.  I'll  listen  to  you  in  profound  silence 
and  with  supreme  contempt." 

For  some  reason  this  remark  closed  the  discussion. 

I  have  said  that  Captain  Sam  was  forage  master  of  the  regi 
ment  to  which  he  belonged,  and  in  his  opinion  this  was  an  office 
not  only  of  unusual  importance  but  considerable  dignity;  and 
when  he  was  riding  at  the  head  of  his  train  of  wagons  in  search 
of  fodder,  no  commander-in-chief  ever  "felt  his  oats"  more 
sensibly.  Once,  when  traversing  a  very  muddy  country  road,  he 
encountered  a  similar  train  of  some  Mississippi  regiment,  moving 
in  an  opposite  direction.  On  such  a  road  no  one  liked  to  yield 
the  right  of  way,  for  it  might  involve  the  ditching  of  the  wagons. 
Captain  Sam,  impressed  with  the  idea,  of  course,  that  every 
body  should  give  way  to  him,  without  saying  a  word,  waved  his 
hand  in  quite  an  autocratic  manner  to  the  opposing  forage  master 
as  a  signal  that  he  should  clear  the  track.  The  Captain  wore  a 
very  tall  and  slick  silk  hat,  which  was  not  military  in  appearance, 
but,  as  he  thought,  suggested  authority,  and  he  was  sufficiently 
full  of  good  liquor  to  cause  his  naturally  protuberant  eyeballs 
to  bulge  more  than  ordinarily.  The  other  forage  master  was, 
like  many  Mississippians,  choleric  and  impatient  of  dictation, 
and  he  got  mad. 

"You  blamed  old  red-faced,  pop-eyed,  high-hatted  idiot!" 
he  shouted:  "What  do  you  mean  by  shaking  your  fist  at  me?" 

"I  wish  you,"  said  the  captain  with  perfect  composure,  "to 
evacuate  the  highway. " 

"The  —  you  do;  who  are  you  anyways?" 

"This  is  Colonel  Blank's  train,"  said  the  captain. 

"Well,  are  you  Colonel  Blank?" 

"No,"  responded  Captain  Sam.  "I'm  not  exactly  or  personally 
Colonel  Blank.  But  for  the  purposes  of  this  case,  and  to  make 
you  give  me  the  track,  I'm  him  constructively  and  quod  hoc. 
I'm  his  alter  ego  and  principal  auxiliary. " 

The  Mississippian's  anger  subsided,  such  diction  was  too  much 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  93 

for  him;  he  sidetracked  his  train  and  the  captain's  moved 
majestically  on. 

But,  despite  his  remarkable  gift  of  speech,  he  finally  came  to 
grief  because  his  conduct  was  not  equally  as  exceptional.  Like 
a  multitude  of  other  great  men,  he  succumbed  to  the  temptations 
of  graft.  At  the  beginning  of  the  war  the  supply  of  quinine  in 
the  South  was  scanty,  and  as  it  was  esteemed  one  of  the  most 
necessary  medicines  for  the  diseases  most  prevalent  in  that  region 
strenuous  efforts  were  made  to  obtain  and  preserve  it.  While 
Gen.  Albert  Sidney  Johnston's  army  was  at  Bowling  Green 
the  surgeon  of  Captain  Sam's  regiment  had  providently  procured 
a  considerable  quantity  of  this  much-valued  remedy,  packed  in 
small  china  jars,  and  had  jealously  hoarded  it  for  future  use.  He 
had  little  occasion  to  employ  it  for  some  time,  the  health  of  the 
regiment  remaining  unusually  good;  but  when  he  finally  had 
need  for  it  he  found,  to  his  consternation,  that  much  the  greater 
part  of  it  had  disappeared. 

An  investigation  was  immediately  instituted,  and  it  was  as 
certained  that  Captain  Sam,  "not  having  the  fear  of  God  before 
his  eyes,  but  moved  and  instigated  thereto  by  the  devil"  in  the 
shape  of  a  country  doctor,  had  disposed  of  the  quinine  for  his 
own  personal  gain.  The  jars  containing  the  drug  had  been 
deposited  in  one  of  the  wagons  under  the  captain's  charge  and 
he  had  sold  most  of  it  to  a  practising  physician  in  a  small  village 
in  Tennessee.  Jim  Ball,  the  driver  of  the  wagon,  and  another 
man  had  witnessed  the  transaction.  Without  the  captain's 
being  aware  of  it,  they  had  seen  him  in  close  consultation  with  the 
doctor;  had  witnessed  them  both  go  to  the  wagon  in  which  the 
quinine  was  stored  and  the  captain  take  thence  a  number  of  the 
jars;  had  seen  the  doctor  place  money  in  the  captain's  hands,  put 
the  jars  in  a  basket  and  go  off  with  them.  Ball  was  a  taciturn 
man,  and  had  not  thought  it  necessary  previously  to  report  the 
matter,  but  when  inquiry  about  it  was  made  he  and  his  comrade 
told  all  that  they  had  seen. 

The  colonel  was  extremely  indignant,  and  at  once  ordered 
Captain  Sam  to  be  brought  before  a  regimental  court-martial, 
and  Ball  and  the  other  man  testified  to  the  facts  as  above  nar 
rated.  There  seemed  to  be  no  defence  or  hope  of  acquittal,  but 
the  captain  was  dead  game  and  didn't  quit  worth  a  cent. 


94  REMINISCENCES  OF 

He    demanded   permission    to    cross-examine  Ball,  which  was, 
of  course,  allowed. 

"Mr.  Ball,"  he  commenced,  "you've  testified  in  this  case  pretty 
spontaneously  and  obnoxious  to  me;  now  I  wish  to  ascertain 
if  you  have  any  real  knowledge  of  the  subject  about  which  you've 
discoursed  so  liberally.  Do  you  know  what  quinine  exactly  is?" 

"I  never  said  I  did,"  answered  Ball,  "but " 

"Hold  on  now.  Don't  get  off  the  path.  Do  you  know 
whether  quinine  is  the  residuum  of  the  calcined  bark  of  the 
chincony  tree  or  whether  it's  made  from  the  ashes  of  mullein 
stalks  ?  Now  do  you  ? " 

"No,"  said  Ball,  "I  don't  know  nothin'  about  that,  but  I 
seen  you 

"Stop,  Mr.  Ball.  Please  return  categorical  and  applicable 
answers  to  my  interrogatories.  I  will  ask  you  again  if  you  are 
acquainted  with  quinine?  Do  you  understand  its  constituent 
elements?  Do  you  know  its  hygenic  and  symptomatic  effects 
upon  the  human  system?  Can  you  recognize  quinine  when  you 
see  it?  Would  you  know  it  if  you  should  meet  it  on  the  pike? 
Could  you  distinguish  it  by  mere  inspection  from  an  equal 
amount  of  flour  or  a  corresponding  proportion  of  magnesia? 
Could  you  now?" 

"Maybe  I  couldn't,  and  I  don't  care  ad  —  n  if  I  can't," 
blurted  out  Ball,  who  had  begun  to  lose  his  temper  and  his  awe 
of  the  court,  "but  I  seen  you  take  them  jars,  which  you  said  had 
quinine  in  'em,  out  of  the  wagon  and  hand  'em  to  that  doctor, 
and  I  seen  him  pay  you  and  walk  off  with  'em. " 

The  captain  strove  hard,  but  vainly,  to  interrupt  this  out 
burst,  and  when  Ball  ceased  he  addressed  himself  to  the  court 
with  an  air  of  absolute  confidence. 

"Gentlemen,  you  cannot  help  perceiving  how  utterly  obtuse 
and  inconsequential  is  this  testimony.  Manifestly  this  witness 
hasn't  the  remotest  conception  of  what  he  is  talking  about.  He 
don't  know  quinine  from  one  of  the  ten  commandments.  Surely 
you  wouldn't  convict  a  dog  that  bays  the  moon  on  such  evidence, 
far  less  a  Confederate  soldier  and  a  forage  master. " 

The  hard-hearted  court  did  convict  him,  however,  and 
inflicted  what  he  characterized  as  a  "cruel,  unusual,  unconsti 
tutional,  and  unparalleled  punishment." 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  95 

One  of  the  most  important  matters  an  officer  commanding 
troops  in  the  field  has  to  consider  is  how  to  prevent  their  too 
free  and  frequent  use  of  liquor.  It  is-  a  more  difficult  task  with 
cavalry  than  with  infantry,  because  it  is  impossible  to  enforce 
strict  discipline  with  the  former  when  engaged  in  active  service, 
and  not  nearly  so  easy  to  keep  them  closely  in  camp. 

It  should  not  be  inferred  from  this  statement  that  the  soldiers 
of  the  Civil  War  —  the  volunteers  —  were  habitually  intem 
perate  and  addicted  to  the  inordinate  use  of  strong  drink 
whenever  they  could  procure  it.  It  was  not  the  liquor  that 
they  liked  so  much,  as  the  frolic.  They  were  nearly  all  of 
them  quite  young,  had  led  sober  lives  before  they  enlisted  in  the 
army,  and  with  few  exceptions,  did  so  after  their  term  of 
service  was  over. 

Nor  were  they  accustomed  to  indulge  such  tastes  when  se 
riously  employed.  When  a  campaign  was  in  active  conduct,  or 
battle  was  imminent,  they  seemed  to  care  little  or  at  least  much 
less,  for  liquor.  Even  the  cavalry  man  when  scouting,  was  lively 
and  skirmishes  frequent,  partially  forgot  his  thirst.  But  when 
matters  were  monotonous,  when  the  men  were  subjected  to  the 
tedium  and  inaction  of  the  camp,  they  were  very  apt  to  seek  the 
excitement,  otherwise  lacking,  in  the  stimulating  influence  of 
the  canteen.  In  common,  perhaps,  with  all  other  cavalry  officers, 
I  had  a  rather  large  experience  in  this  respect,  and,  while  often 
greatly  annoyed  by  it,  was  sometimes  compelled  to  admire  the 
ingenuity  displayed  in  the  practice.  The  expedients  resorted 
to  to  procure  whiskey  and  to  smuggle  it  into  camp  were  numerous 
and  difficult  of  detection. 

My  first  positive  dealings  with  the  "liquor  question"  came 
near  getting  me  into  serious  trouble,  not  withstanding  the  recti 
tude  of  my  purpose.  It  was  when  Morgan's  squadron  was 
encamped  at  Bowling  Green,  Ky.,  in  November,  1861.  For 
some  weeks  previous  we  had  been  scouting  north  of  the -Green 
River,  and  the  service  was  so  constant  and  exciting  that,  as  I 
have  before  intimated,  the  "boys"  had  evinced  little  desire  for 
intoxicants.  But  when  we  lay  in  camp  near  Bowling  Green 
for  ten  days  or  two  weeks,  with  little  employment  except  drill 
and  camp  police  duty,  the  craving  was  strongly  developed  and 
flagrant  cases  were  reported.  It  was  some  time  before  I  could 


96  REMINISCENCES  OF 

discover  where  the  men  were  able  to  get  liquor  so  readily  and  in 
such  abundance,  as  they  were  certainly  obtaining  it.  I  at  length 
ascertained  that  they  got  -it  from  a  store  at  a  railroad  station 
about  a  mile  from  the  camp. 

I  remonstrated  with  the  proprietor  and  requested  him  not  to 
sell  liquor  to  soldiers,  at  least  to  the  men  of  Morgan's  squadron. 
He  promised  me  that  he  would  not  do  so  in  the  future.  His 
business  in  this  line,  however,  was  too  extensive  and  profitable 
to  be  lightly  relinquished  and  made  him  unscrupulous  about 
keeping  such  pledges.  Or  it  may  be  that,  dealing  as  he  was  with 
a  multitude  of  soldiers  —  for  crowds  of  customers  came  from 
many  other  camps  —  he  could  not  well  distinguish  Morgan's 
men  from  the  others.  At  any  rate  it  was  not  long  before  matters 
were  as  bad  as  ever,  and  I  had  unmistakable  evidence  that  the 
liquor  came  from  the  same  source. 

It  occurred  to  me,  then,  that  the  evil  could  be  cured  only  by 
drastic  and  heroic  remedies,  and  I  immediately,  unfortunately, 
without  giving  thought  to  the  probable  consequences,  proceeded 
to  apply  them.  I  determined  to  seize  all  the  liquor  in  the  store 
and  keep  it  under  guard  as  long  as  we  remained  in  that  vicinity, 
and  then  return  it  to  the  owner.  Some  one  suggested  that  such 
a  move  on  the  part  of  an  officer  so  subordinate  in  authority  might 
be  regarded  more  as  a  breach  of  discipline  than  as  the  just  exer 
cise  of  police  power,  so  I  concluded  to  conceal,  as  far  as  possible, 
the  identity  of  all  concerned  in  the  affair.  A  very  excellent  man 
and  good  soldier  named  John  Sisson  was  then  forage  master  of 
the  squadron.  He  was  afterward  a  captain  in  the  Ninth  Ten 
nessee  Cavalry.  I  instructed  him  to  select  a  detail  of  five  or  six 
men,  who,  like  himself,  never  drank,  and  who,  I  believed, 
would  not  be  recognized  by  the  proprietor  of  the  store,  and 
taking  two  wagons,  go  to  the  store  and  bring  away  all  of  the  liquor 
which  might  be  there.  An  order  was  written  out  for  Sisson, 
representing  that  he  was  a  provost  marshal  and  empowered  to 
do  everything  in  that  vicinity  which  might  be  conducive  to 
order,  discipline,  and  good  conduct.  He  arrayed  himself  in  re 
splendent  garb,  principally  consisting  of  a  red  sash  and  two 
enormous  plumes,  and  with  four  pistols  and  two  sabres  buckled 
around  his  waist,  presented  himself  late  one  afternoon  at  the 
store.  Dismayed  by  his  appearance  and  the  documents  which  he 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  97 

produced,  the  owner  capitulated  at  once,  and  Sisson  brought  off 
a  load  of  liquors  of  various  kinds  in  each  wagon,  which  was  stored 
in  two  large  tents. 

But  then  real  trouble  began.  It  was  impossible,  of  course,  to 
conceal  from  the  men  the  fact  that  all  this  liquor  was  in  camp, 
and  equally  so  to  prevent  them,  in  some  way,  getting  at  it.  The 
guard  about  the  tents  where  it  was  stored  was  doubled  and 
trebled  but  without  avail;  sometimes  the  guard  exhibited 
suspicious  symptoms  of  having  tampered  with  the  stuff  they 
were  posted  to  protect. 

One  day  a  man  named  Roberts,  who  was  a  brave  and,  when 
sober,  good  soldier,  but  a  devil  incarnate  when  drunk,  was 
brought  to  the  guard  tent  in  a  state  of  howling  intoxication.  As 
he  invariably  attacked  every  one  who  came  near  him  when  in  that 
condition,  he  was  bound  hand  and  foot,  and  even  then  it  was 
dangerous  to  approach  him. 

Shortly  after  his  arrest  and  incarceration,  the  orderly  sergeant 
of  one  of  the  companies  reported  to  me  that  a  member  of  his 
company  had  refused  to  serve  on  picket  duty  although  it  was  his 
regular  turn  to  be  detailed.  I  knew  the  man  well,  and  knew  him 
to  be  worthless  as  a  soldier,  although  not  a  bad  fellow  otherwise. 
The  sergeant  suspected  that  his  refusal  was  because  of  the  fact 
that  the  videttes,  at  the  point  to  which  he  was  to  have  been  sent, 
had  been  fired  upon  the  night  before.  I  had  him  brought  to  me, 
and  he  made  to  me  the  same  positive  declination  to  go  on  duty 
which  had  previously  been  made  to  the  sergeant. 

"Very  well,  then, "  I  said.     "You  will  go  to  the  guard  tent. " 

He  signified  a  decided  preference  for  that  assignment  to  stand 
ing  picket,  and  walked  off  with  a  very  satisfied  air.  I  felt  quite 
sure  that  had  he  known  who  was  to  be  his  companion  in  con 
finement  he  would  not  have  so  cheerfully  accepted  his  punish 
ment.  The  guard  tent  was  a  large,  commodious  "Sibley, " 
and  "Ben,"  as  the  last  mentioned  offender  was  named  and  gen 
erally  addressed,  was  inducted  into  it  without  ceremony,  and  the 
opening  tightly  strapped.  A  good  many  men  gathered  about 
the  tent,  for  all  felt  sure  that  Roberts  would  instantly  attack 
any  one  who  entered  it,  and  that,  bound  as  he  was,  would  be 
formidable.  They  were  not  disappointed.  In  a  few  seconds  a 
sound  of  struggling  could  be  heard  within  the  tent  and  the  sides 


98  REMINISCENCES  OF 

of  it  bulged  as  if  some  one  was  running  rapidly  about  in  there; 
soon  afterward  agonizing  cries  for  help  were  heard  from  Ben. 
I  was  inclined  at  first  to  give  no  heed  to  them,  but  they  became 
so  vociferous  being  accompanied  by  asseverations  that  Roberts 
was  devouring  him,  "biting  his  leg  off/'  that  I  thought  it  best 
to  investigate.  When  several  of  us  entered  we  found  Ben 
prostrate  and  Roberts  fastened  upon  him  like  a  bulldog,  with 
his  teeth  firmly  gripping  the  fleshy  part  of  his  thigh.  Ben  was  a 
fat,  clumsy  creature,  and  Roberts  had  rolled  after  him  until  in 
the  limited  space  in  which  the  encounter  took  place,  Ben  had 
lost  his  footing  and  the  other  immediately  nipped  him.  It  was 
with  some  difficulty  that  we  pulled  Roberts  off  and  released  his 
victim.  So  soon  as  I  thought  Ben  had  somewhat  recovered 
from  this  exciting  adventure,  I  sent  for  him  and  asked  if  he 
had  changed  his  mind  and  would  consent  to  do  picket  duty. 
He  answered  firmly  that  he  was  still  of  the  same  mind  and 
wouldn't  stand  picket. 

"  Very  well  then, "  I  said. "  You  must  go  back  to  the  guard  tent. " 

"My  God,  adjutant!"  he  howled,  perfectly  aghast.  "You 
are  not  going  to  put  me  in  the  tent  again  with  that  mad  dog, 
that  cannibal?" 

I  assured  him  that  I  would  certainly  do  so  unless  he  performed 
his  fair  share  of  duty.  He  pondered  the  matter  for  awhile  and 
then  ruefully  consented  to  go  with  the  detail.  A  few  minutes 
afterward  I  saw  him  ride  away  with  the  others,  having  a  large 
wet  rag  bound  around  his  leg  and  sitting  sideways  on  his  saddle. 

After  several  other  episodes  of  somewhat  like  nature,  mani 
festly  due  to  the  vicinity  of  the  whiskey,  I  greatly  regretted  my 
action  in  bringing  it  to  the  camp,  but  I  soon  had  cause  for  serious 
apprehension.  The  owner  of  the  liquor,  notwithstanding  our 
strategic  efforts  to  deceive  him,  strongly  suspected  who  were  the 
parties  who  had  bereft  him  of  his  goods,  and  when  he  reported 
his  loss  at  headquarters  also  declared  his  suspicions.  General 
Johnston  was  extremely  indignant.  He  had  no  idea,  of  course, 
why  the  liquor  had  been  seized,  and  even  had  he  been  properly  in 
formed  would  doubtless  have  disapproved  of  so  summary  a  pro 
cedure.  But  believing,  as  he  had  reason  to  do,  that  it  was  sheer, 
plain  robbery,  he  determined  to  make  a  terrible  example 
of  the  guilty  ones. 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  99 

One  night  about  nine  o'clock,  captain,  afterward  Col.  R. 
C.  Morgan  then  on  Breckinridge's  staff  came  in  haste  to 
our  camp  with  an  unpleasant  piece  of  news:  General 
Johnson  had  instructed  General  Breckinridge  to  investigate 
the  matter  and  arrest  the  author,  of  the  "unparalleled 
outrage,"  if  discovered.  Breckinridge  had  ordered  Capt. 
Keene  Richards,  another  of  his  staff,  to  proceed  to  our 
camp  and  make  a  thorough  search.  Richards  had  given  Morgan 
a  quiet  tip  to  the  effect  that  he  would  not  start  immediately  on 
the  mission,  but  Morgan  did  immediately  set  out  on  his  errand. 

Upon  receipt  of  this  information  no  time  was  lost,  and  we 
proceeded  to  get  rid  of  the  liquor  much  more  expeditiously  and 
with  less  ceremony  than  we  had  procured  it.  Sisson  hitched  up 
his  wagons  and  loaded  them  in  exceedingly  short  order  and  drove 
out  into  a  thick  woods  about  half  a  mile  from  camp,  where  he 
remained  until  after  midnight.  He  then  drove  down  to  the  store 
and  quietly  discharged  his  cargo  in  front  of  it,  where  it  was  found 
next  morning  by  the  proprietor.  Some  twenty  minutes  after 
Sisson's  departure,  Captain  Richards  rode  up  and  gravely  in 
formed  Captain  Morgan  and  myself  of  the  charges  against  us, 
and  stated  that  he  must  thoroughly  search  our  premises.  We 
felt  very  much  hurt,  of  course,  at  such  an  accusation,  but  gave 
all  the  aid  we  could  in  his  work.  He  carefully  looked  through 
the  commissary  tents  and  every  other,  and  in  every  place  where 
anything  might  be  hidden.  Some  of  the  men,  in  their  zeal  to 
show  that  he  had  been  misinformed,  turned  out  their  pockets, 
and  none  of  them  had  either  bottle  or  barrel  concealed  about 
their  persons. 

The  matter  was  dropped  when  Captain  Richards  made  his 
report,  but  it  was  a  lesson  to  me  not  to  attempt  measures  of  that 
sort  again.  At  any  rate,  while  in  such  close  proximity  to  army 
headquarters. 


CHAPTER  V 

IT  WOULD  be  difficult  to  induce  the  people  of  the  South 
to  admit  that  any  other  man  —  even  another  of  their  own 
most  revered  heroes  —  is  worthy  to  be  ranked  on  the  same 
level  with  General  Lee.  But  if  any  of  the  great  men  of  the 
Confederacy  shall,  in  the  estimation  of  his  countrymen  or  by 
the  verdict  of  history,  be  accorded  that  extraordinary  eminence, 
it  will  be,  I  believe,  Albert  Sidney  Johnston.  Not  that  the  fame 
of  the  one  is  commensurate  with  that  of  the  other.  Men  of 
action  must  be  judged  chiefly  by  their  records,  and  no  record 
of  the  Civil  War,  on  either  side,  can  bear  comparison  with  that 
of  General  Lee. 

General  Johnston's  Confederate  career  was  brief,  closed  by  a 
premature  but  glorious  death  before  opportunity  was  afforded 
him  to  prove  by  actual  performance  all  of  what  he  might  be 
capable,  and  to  earn  the  recognition  which  can  be  justly  given 
only  to  accomplished  work. 

General  Lee's  record  was  not  only  well-nigh  unexampled  as  a 
master  of  offenso-def ensive  warfare  and  remarkable  in  all  respects, 
but  it  was  complete.  He  served  with  active,  incessant  effort 
from  the  inception  to  the  close  of  the  struggle.  His  name  was 
identified  with  its  every  phase  and  vicissitude.  His  influence 
and  leadership  were  felt  and  acknowledged  wherever  the  Con 
federate  banner  waved  and  Confederate  soldiers  fought.  He 
became  the  idol  of  the  Southern  armies  and  the  Southern  people. 
In  the  latter  days  of  the  war  the  Confederate  soldiers  every 
where  looked  to  him  for  inspiration.  Whether  battling  and 
starving  in  Tennessee  and  Georgia,  in  Lousiana,  or  Arkansas; 
whether  raiding  in  Kentucky  or  holding  the  shattered  forts  of 
the  Coast  and  the  Gulf  against  the  storm  of  shell  poured  upon  them 
from  the  monitors,  they  spoke  his  name  as  a  talisman  when  hope 
was  failing  and  disaster  seemed  irremediable,  and  believed  that 
he  would  turn  the  tide  of  adverse  fortune  and  save  the  cause  for 
which  we  strove.  This  invincible  faith  in  him  was  as  strong 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  101 

among  troops  who  never  saw  or  directly  served  under  him,  as 
with  that  band  of  heroes  whom  he  immediately  commanded, 
and  who  had  been  taught  it  by  the  many  victories  they  had  won 
under  his  eye. 

General  Johnston  was  not  accorded  this  universal  sympathy, 
confidence,  and  admiration.  Indeed  it  was  the  lot  of  no  man  to 
receive  such  endorsement  at  the  date  when  he  met  death  on  the 
field  of  Shiloh.  On  the  contrary,  he  had  been  the  recipient  in 
larger  measure,  than  any  other  Confederate  general,  perhaps, 
of  that  criticism  which,  in  the  earlier  days  of  the  war,  spared  no 
commander  who  did  not  accomplish  extraordinary  results  with 
altogether  inadequate  means  —  criticism  from  which  even 
General  Lee  was  not  entirely  exempt  in  his  earlier  command 
—  and  his  retreat  from  Kentucky,  although  perfectly  justified 
by  the  strategic  situation  and  necessitated  by  military  circum 
stances  utterly  beyond  his  control,  subjected  him  to  censure 
as  bitter  as  it  was  unjust.  One  of  the  most  unmistakable  evi 
dences  of  his  capacity  was  the  fact  that  he  succeeded  in  so  brief 
a  time  and  under  arduous  difficulties,  in  completely  reversing 
public  opinion  and  recovering  the  enthusiastic  support  of  those 
previously  estranged;  and  this  was  not  merely  a  compassionate 
sentiment  evoked  by  his  heroic  death,  but  a  real  conviction 
that  he  was  equal  to  the  situation,  which  became  general  so  soon 
as  he  concentrated  at  Corinth  and  advanced  to  attack  Grant  at 
Pittsburg  Landing. 

Nor  is  it  his  least  claim  to  magnanimity  and  moral  grandeur 
that  he  neither  resented  criticism  which  he  knew  to  be  unde 
served,  nor  was  deterred  by  it  from  deliberate  adherence  to 
what  he  believed  the  wisest  policy. 

It  is  generally  conceded  that  the  one  campaign  which  General 
Johnston  conducted  during  the  Civil  War,  and  the  one  battle 
that  he  fought,  should  rank  him  very  high  as  a  commander. 
In  the  estimation  of  many  competent  military  critics,  neither 
was  excelled  in  the  operations  of  the  entire  war  upon  either  side. 
He  was  forced  to  abandon  che  line  he  at  first  attempted  to  hold 
in  Kentucky  because  of  the  immense  numerical  superiority 
and  better  equipment  of  the  Federal  forces  marshalled  to  assault 
it;  but  he  acted  with  unhesitating  promptness,  instantly  realizing 
the  nature  and  full  scope  of  the  situation,  and  as  instantly 


102  REMINISCENCES  OF 

proceeding  to  meet  it,  quitting  Bowling  Green  without  a  moment's 
delay,  evacuating  Nashville,  marching  across  and  out  of  Tennes 
see,  rousing  meanwhile  a  roar  of  popular  indignation  by  his 
apparent  sacrifice  of  all  he  was  expected  to  defend.  By  this 
rapidity  of  movement,  however,  he  effected  a  concentration  of 
all  forces  at  his  command,  of  every  available  man,  at  the  point 
which  it  was  most  important  to  protect,  in  the  vicinity  where 
he  might  hope  to  deliver  battle  with  best  hope  of  success,  and  at 
a  time  when  successful  battle  would  recover  all  he  had  relin 
quished —  certainly  all  this  proves  him  to  have  possessed  strategic 
ability  of  the  highest  order.  Nor  can  it  be  denied  that  the 
disposition  of  his  troops  preceding  his  attack  at  Shiloh  and  the 
successful  progress  of  the  attack  until  he  was  killed,  entitled 
him  to  be  considered  an  unusually  skilful  tactician.  Most 
assuredly  his  conduct  both  of  the  campaign  and  the  battle  con 
clusively  demonstrated  that  he  had  in  rare  measure  that  most 
essential  quality  of  the  great  captain  —  prompt,  unflinching 
decision. 

In  no  campaign  in  the  West  during  the  war  was  the  initiative 
taken  upon  the  Confederate  side  anything  like  so  boldly  and 
pressed  so  vigorously  and  with  such  promise  of  a  success  that 
would  have  given  decisive  results.  It  is  almost  impossible  to 
doubt  that  had  General  Johnston  survived,  the  Confederate 
victory  of  the  first  day  at  Shiloh  would  have  been  complete. 
In  that  event  we  may  claim  that  the  recovery  of  Tennessee  and 
Kentucky  and  the  Confederate  occupation  of  all  that  territory 
would  have  certainly  followed. 

A  general  who  could  plan  and  successfully  execute  one  such 
campaign  might  surely  be  expected,  with  opportunity,  to  accom 
plish  other  things  of  like  nature;  and  we  are  justified,  therefore, 
in  believing  that  had  General  Johnston  lived  to  the  close  of  the 
war  his  Confederate  record  would  have  been  inferior  to  none. 

Moreover,  it  should  be  remembered  that  while  Shiloh  was  a 
drawn  battle,  the  campaign,  beginning  with  the  retreat  from 
Bowling  Green,  must  be  regarded  as  a  successful  one;  although 
not  nearly  so  much  so,  of  course,  as  it  would  have  been  after 
complete  victory  at  Shiloh.  The  plan  of  Federal  invasion  — 
of  which  the  capture  of  Forts  Donelson  and  Henry  were  the 
initial  steps,  and  the  concentration  of  all  the  troops  under 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  103 

Grant,  soon  to  be  joined  by  those  under  Buell,  at  Pittsburg 
Landing  was  the  most  important  preparatory  measure  —  was 
thoroughly  disconcerted,  indeed  thwarted,  by  Johnston's  rapid 
concentration  at  Corinth  and  subsequent  attack  at  Shiloh. 
This  plan  contemplated  the  occupation  of  Corinth  during  the 
month  of  April,  1862,  as  early  in  the  month  as  practicable,  and, 
if  possible,  before  any  Confederate  force  had  reached  there. 
If  any  such  force  had  gotten  there  it  was  to  be  beaten  by  the 
combined  armies  of  Grant  and  Buell. 

Corinth  was  located  at  the  intersection  of  the  Memphis  and 
Charleston  and  Mobile  and  Ohio  Railroads,  and  these  two  rail 
roads  controlled  almost  the  entire  transportation  of  the  South, 
from  the  Mississippi  River  to  the  Atlantic  coast,  and  from  the 
Tennessee  River  to  the  Gulf.  Had  the  plan  been  carried  out  as 
originally  projected,  and  as  soon,  the  fall  of  the  Confederacy 
would  have  occurred  perhaps  within  a  few  months  thereafter. 
If  the  Federal  commanders  had  gotten  to  Corinth  before  the 
Confederates,  preventing  Johnston  from  effecting  a  junction 
of  the  troops  under  his  immediate  command  with  those  under 
Beauregard  and  Polk,  or  if  he  had  been  attacked  immediately 
after  such  junction  by  the  overwhelmingly  superior  forces  of 
Grant  and  Buell  combined,  the  result  in  either  event  would  have 
been  almost  certainly  fatal  to  his  army  and  to  the  Confederacy. 
His  early  divination  of  the  intentions  of  his  antagonists,  quick 
decision,  and  prompt  action  parried  the  danger.  By  concen 
trating  so  speedily  that  he  was  able  to  fight  Grant  singly  and 
defeat  him,  and  striking  so  soon  as  he  got  within  reach  of  his 
enemy,  he  so  crippled  the  army  of  invasion  as  to  delay  its  march 
until  ampler  preparation  to  meet  it  could  be  made,  one  of 
the  two  important  railway  lines  was  prevented  from  falling 
into  its  hands,  and  the  immediate  and  extensive  occupation 
of  Southern  territory,  which  had  seemed  imminent,  was  no 
longer  threatened. 

No  one,  however,  can  form  a  just  estimate  of  General  John 
ston  as  a  soldier  without  some  knowledge  of  his  service  in  the 
old  army,  nor  understand  how  great  a  man  he  was,  except  from 
the  testimony  of  those  who  knew  him  in  his  private  life. 

Gen.  Albert  Sidney  Johnston  was  born  in  Mason  County,  Ky., 
February  2d,  1803.  He  was  appointed  to  West  Point  in 


104  REMINISCENCES  OF 

1822,  and  was  graduated  in  1826.  His  room  mate  and  most 
intimate  friend  at  the  academy  was  Gen.  Leonidas  Polk,  and 
the  devoted  friendship  which  existed  until  his  death  between 
himself  and  Jefferson  Davis  began  there. 

In  July,  1826,  immediately  after  his  graduation,  he  was  com 
missioned  brevet  second  lieutenant  in  the  Second  Infantry, 
and  was  assigned  to  duty  in  the  field.  It  may  be  mentioned 
as  indicative  of  his  soldierly  disposition  and  inclination  to  really 
earnest  professional  work,  that  he  declined  an  offer  soon  after 
ward  made  him  to  serve  on  the  staff  of  General  Scott,  then 
commander-in-chief  of  the  army.  The  offer  was  a  flattering 
one,  as  such  positions,  when  given  very  young  officers,  were 
confined  to  those  of  excellent  repute  and  promise,  and  afforded 
opportunity  for  rapid  promotion,  as  well  as  social  advantages 
generally  much  desired.  His  service  was  active  and  constant. 
He  was  instrumental  in  bringing  to  conclusion  the  trouble  with 
the  Winnebagoes  in  1827,  and  shortly  afterward  he  took  part 
in  the  Black  Hawk  War,  in  which  the  band  of  that  celebrated 
warrior,  the  war  chief  of  the  fierce  tribe  of  Sacs,  was  exterminated. 
General  Johnston  served  during  this  campaign  as  assistant 
adjutant-general  to  the  commander,  General  Atkinson. 

In  April,  1834,  ne  resigned  his  commission  in  the  army.  He 
was  induced  to  do  this  by  the  failing  health  of  his  wife,  to  whom 
he  was  tenderly  attached  and  to  whose  care  he  wished  to  devote 
his  entire  time  and  strength.  His  solicitude,  however,  was  un 
availing,  and  she  died  in  the  following  year. 

He  was  a  poor  man;  he  had,  of  course,  saved  little  out  of  his 
meagre  pay  as  a  lieutenant,  and  he  had  given  every  cent  of  his 
share  of  the  property  inherited  from  his  father  to  the  support 
of  his  sisters.  It  was  necessary  that  he  should  immediately 
go  to  work  to  maintain  the  two  little  children  whom  his  deceased 
wife  had  left  him.  It  seems  that  he  hesitated  for  a  time  between 
Kentucky  and  Louisiana  when  looking  for  a  location  and  a  point 
where  he  could  hope  to  secure  profitable  occupation,  but  finally 
determined  to  buy  a  plantation  in  Texas.  He  was  doubtless 
attracted  there  by  his  sympathy  with  the  struggle  the  gallant 
settlers  were  making  against  the  tyranny  of  Mexico,  whose 
yoke  they  had  just  thrown  off.  The  battle  of  San  Jacinto, 
fought  a  few  months  after  Texas  ha-d  declared  her  independence, 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  105 

had  conclusively  demonstrated  the  superiority  in  the  field  of 
the  imperfectly  organized  and  undisciplined  Americans  to  even 
the  best  of  the  Mexican  regular  troops  commanded  by  the  ablest 
of  their  generals.  But  the  Mexican  government  would  listen 
to  no  proposition  for  an  honourable  and  satisfactory  peace,  and, 
while  making  no  further  actual  demonstration,  still  maintained 
a  hostile  and  threatening  attitude.  This,  of  course,  necessitated 
a  constant  state  of  preparation  for  defence  upon  the  part  of 
the  Texans,  and  the  republic  was  compelled  to  keep  an  army  — 
a  small,  but  very  gallant  one  —  in  the  field. 

General  Johnston  arrived  in  Texas  shortly  after  the  battle 
of  San  Jacinto  was  fought,  and  when  another  and  early  Mexican 
invasion  was  expected.  He  naturally  offered  his  military  ser 
vices  to  the  republic,  and  as  his  reputation  as  an  officer  had 
preceded  him  and  he  also  bore  the  highest  testimonials  from  his 
former  comrades  and  commanders,  they  were  gladly  accepted. 
He  was  appointed  adjutant-general  of  the  Texan  army  by  General 
Rusk,  who  was  commanding  it  during  the  temporary  absence 
of  Gen.  Sam  Houston,  and  on  the  same  day,  the  5th  of 
August,  1836,  he  was  appointed  colonel  in  the  regular  army  and 
adjutant-general  of  the  republic.  His  success  in  organizing 
and  disciplining  the  troops  received  the  highest  commendations 
upon  all  sides;  but  the  government  soon  felt  the  need  of  his 
services  at  the  capital,  and  he  was  summoned  thither  by  an  order 
from  the  Hon.  John  A.  Wharton,  secretary  of  war,  of  date 
September  17,  1836.  He  remained  in  the  performance  of  this 
duty,  until  he  was  appointed  senior  brigadier-general  of  the  army, 
and  virtually  in  command  of  it,  and  he  assumed  command  on 
the  3 1st  of  January,  1837. 

The  acceptance  of  this  position  involved  him  in  serious  trouble 
and  came  near  costing  him  his  life.  Besides  Gen.  Sam  Houston, 
there  was  another  distinguished  man  of  that  name  then  playing 
a  conspicuous  part  in  Texas,  viz.,  Gen.  Felix  Houston.  Shortly 
after  the  battle  of  San  Jacinto,  General  Rusk,  who  was  com 
manding  the  army  during  the  absence  of  Gen.  Sam  Houston, 
had  in  turn  turned  over  the  command  to  Felix  Houston,  a  very 
gallant  but  extremely  ambitious  man,  and  of  an  arbitrary 
disposition.  Having  already  distinguished  himself  as  a 
general  officer,  and  having  been  recommended  by  Rusk  for  the 


io6  REMINISCENCES  OF 

position,  he  had  reason  to  expect  the  promotion  which  was  given 
General  Johnston.  Instead,  however,  he  was  given  the  subordi 
nate  rank  of  junior  brigadier.  Gen.  Felix  Houston  was  a  native 
of  Kentucky,  as  was  General  Johnston,  but,  unlike  the  latter, 
was  a  man  of  unreasonable  and  overbearing  temper.  He  was 
a  man  of  prepossessing  appearance  and  demeanour;  tall,  finely 
formed,  quite  handsome,  and  with  a  manner  amiable  and  at 
tractive  to  all  save  those  who  opposed  his  purposes  or  aspirations. 
He  was  also  a  fluent  and  impressive  speaker.  He  had  served 
longer  with  the  Texan  army  than  had  General  Johnston,  was 
much  better  known  to  the  troops,  and,  at  that  time,  far  more 
popular  with  them.  He  fiercely  resented  the  seniority  of  rank 
accorded  General  Johnston,  and  immediately  made  it  a  personal 
matter.  His  action  in  this  regard  was  typical  of  the  times, 
and  the  challenge  he  sent  General  Johnston  was  illustrative  of 
the  follies  —  as  we  would  now  deem  them  —  which  were  fre 
quent  with  the  high-mettled  and  unrestrained  spirits  of  a  region 
just  thrown  open  to  settlement  and  civilization.  He  expressed 
the  highest  esteem  for  the  character  and  repute  of  the  man  with 
whom  he  sought  mortal  conflict;  no  champion  of  ancient  chiv 
alry  could  have  couched  his  defiance  in  more  courteous  language, 
but  claimed  that,  under  the  attendant  circumstances,  General 
Johnston's  appointment  over  him  was  a  personal  reflection 
upon  him  and  an  insult  he  could  not  .brook,  and  he  therefore 
demanded  satisfaction. 

At  a  later  date  and  under  other  conditions,  it  would  have 
perhaps  been  General  Johnston's  inclination  and  duty  to  decline 
the  challenge.  But  he  knew  that  if  he  did  so  he  would  forfeit 
the  confidence  of  the  army  and  absolutely  lose  all  control  over 
it.  The  hot-blooded,  adventurous  and  fearless  young  fellows 
who  filled  its  ranks  —  the  "tumultuario,"  as  Santa  Anna  termed 
them,  of  the  Mississippi  Valley  —  esteemed  and  valued  personal 
prowess  and  a  perfect  readiness  to  meet  danger  in  any  form  above 
every  other  quality,  and  would  never  have  forgiven  or  obeyed  an 
officer  who  refused  such  an  offer  of  combat.  He,  therefore, 
promptly  accepted  the  challenge  and  indicated  an  early  hour  of 
the  next  day  for  the  meeting.  His  son,  Col.  William 
Preston  Johnston,  in  his  very  interesting  book,  the  "Life 
of  Gen.  Albert  Sidney  Johnston,"  gives  a  circumstantial 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  107 

and     graphic     account      of      this       affair,      which      I       shall 
abbreviate. 

General  Houston  was  an  almost  unequalled  shot  with  the 
pistol.  General  Johnston,  on  the  contrary,  while  skilful  in  the 
use  of  other  weapons,  especially  the  rifle,  had  very  little  practice 
with  the  pistol.  Nevertheless,  he  selected  pistols  as  the  weapons 
with  which  the  duel  should  be  fought,  although  his  friends  urged 
him  to  choose  another  with  which  he  might  have  a  better  chance. 
He  seemed  determined  to  prove  —  if  he  must  fight  —  that  no 
man  could  be  more  indifferent  to  danger.  The  duel  was  fought 
in  the  presence  of  a  good  many  spectators,  to  which  neither  party 
objected.  Colonel  Johnston  says:  "The  contest,  though  deadly 
in  intention,  was  chiefly  one  for  the  moral  control  of  these 
very  men;  and  their  presence,  therefore,  was  equally  desired  by 
the  antagonists." 

Although  the  very  reverse  of  sensational  or  theatrical  in  his 
nature  or  manner,  General  Johnston  did  a  thing  on  this  occasion 
which  was  unusual  in  such  affairs,  and  which  seemed  to  savour 
of  a  seeking  after  dramatic  effect.  It  was  the  only  occasion  of 
his  life,  perhaps,  in  which  he  departed  from  perfect  simplicity; 
but  it  was  evidently  done  with  a  view  of  exhibiting  his  willing 
ness  to  incur  any  personal  hazard  and  to  emphasize  the  evidence 
of  it  he  was  compelled  to  give. 

"General  Houston,  according  to  the  custom  of  practised 
duellists,  who  wish  to  present  as  inconspicuous  a  mark  as  possible 
to  the  aim  of  an  opponent,  closely  buttoned  his  coat  as  he 
took  his  position,  General  Johnston,  on  the  contrary,  laid  aside 
his  coat  and  vest,  and  bound  his  sash  around  his  waist,  thus 
offering  his  body,  clad  in  a  white  shirt,  as  an  almost  certain 
target.  When  Houston  perceived  this,  not  wishing  to  be  out 
done  in  audacity,  he  somewhat  angrily  followed  his  example." 

General  Johnston  knew  his  opponent's  skill  with  the  pistol, 
and  was  fully  aware  that  if  opportunity  was  given  him  to  take 
deliberate  aim  the  result  to  himself  would  almost  certainly  he 
fatal.  He  determined  therefore  to  "draw"  Houston's  fire.  The 
hair  trigger  of  the  old-fashioned  duelling  pistol  was  so  sensitive 
that,  if  the  finger  touched  it,  the  involuntary  contraction  induced 
by  the  report  of  another  pistol  was  almost  sure  to  cause  a  pre 
mature  discharge.  Johnston,  therefore,  when  the  word  was 


io8  REMINISCENCES  OF 

given,  fired  just  as  he  saw  Houston  raise  his  pistol,  and  thus  drew 
his  fire  before  he  could  catch  an  accurate  aim.  He  repeated  this 
five  times  with  the  same  result,  much  to  Houston's  discomfiture, 
whose  reputation  as  a  "dead  shot"  was  at  stake.  One  of  John 
ston's  shots  grazed  Houston's  ear,  and  the  latter  long  afterward 
said  that  he  had  not  desired  to  kill  his  opponent,  but  that  this 
"close  call"  admonished  him  that  he  must  take  care  of  himself. 
At  the  sixth  shot  his  skill  asserted  itself,  and  General  Johnston 
fell  with  a  severe  wound  in  the  hip. 

Houston,  who,  with  all  his  faults,  was  a  man  of  generous 
nature,  was  stricken  with  remorse  and  expressed  his  keen 
regret  for  what  had  happened,  sending  word  to  General  John 
ston  that  he  would  cheerfully  serve  under  him.  He  would  not 
receive  the  congratulations  of  his  friends  and  admirers  who 
flocked  around  him  on  his  way  from  the  ground,  and  always 
afterward  spoke  of  General  Johnston  as  "the  coolest  and  bravest 
man"  he  had  ever  known,  and  became  his  staunch  supporter. 
The  effect  of  the  duel  was  to  establish  General  Johnston  firmly 
in  the  confidence  and  regard  of  his  troops.  His  recovery  was 
slow  and  he  suffered  much  pain.  He  was  unable  to  mount  his 
horse  for  many  weeks,  but  at  no  time,  even  when  confined  to  his 
bed,  did  he  relinquish  his  command  or  fail  to  perform  his  official 
duties.  It  was  the  more  necessary  that  he  should  remain  at 
his  post  because  of  the  attitude  of  the  Mexican  government. 
It  became  apparent  that  the  republic  was  in  danger  of  attack 
from  this  power,  both  by  land  and  sea. 

The  ports  of  the  little  republic  were  blockaded  and  severe 
loss  inflicted  by  the  capture  of  vessels  and  supplies.  It  is  es 
timated  that  in  March,  1857,  eight  thousand  Mexican  troops 
were  collected  along  the  Rio  Grande  for  another  invasion  of 
Texas,  and  the  Indians,  who  were  intensely  hostile  to  the  Amer 
ican  settlers,  were  incited  to  every  species  of  outrage.  General 
Johnston's  little  army,  at  no  time  exceeding  two  thousand  men, 
was  kept  in  constant  position  and  readiness  to  meet  the  inva 
sion;  and  the  very  small  force  of  cavalry  under  his  command 
was  kept  actively  employed  in  observing  and  skirmishing  with  the 
enemy.  The  invasion  was  fortunately  prevented  by  internal  dis 
sensions  in  Mexico,  which  induced  the  recall  of  the  troops  threat 
ening  Texas.  But  the  Indian  troubles  fomented  by  Mexican 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  109 

intrigues  grew  worse  and  were  kept  up  for  some  years.  A 
long  standing  quarrel  with  the  Cherokees  and  certain  other 
confederated  tribes  culminated  in  the  battle  of  the  Neches, 
fought  July  1 6,  1829.  General  Johnston  was  at  this  date 
secretary  of  war,  having  been  at  length  forced  by  the  painful 
consequences  of  his  wound  to  relinquish  the  active  command  of 
the  army.  Nevertheless,  although  Gen.  K.  H.  Douglass  was 
commanding  the  troops,  General  Johnston  was  upon  the  field 
advising  with  and  assisting  him.  The  victory  of  the  whites  was 
complete,  the  Indians  sustained  heavy  loss,  and,  in  that  quar 
ter,  gave  little  further  trouble.  But  the  Comanches  and  other 
bands  on  the  southern  and  western  borders  continued  their 
depredations  and  outrages. 

General  Johnston  resigned  his  place  as  secretary  of  war  in 
March,  and  with  it  all  participation  in  public  life  until  after  the 
admission  of  Texas  into  the  Union.  At  the  beginning  of  the  war 
between  the  United  States  and  Mexico,  he  was  appointed  to  the 
command  of  one  of  the  Texan  volunteer  regiments,  enlisted  for 
six  months,  and  subsequently  was  assigned  to  duty  as  inspector- 
general  of  Butler's  division,  in  which  capacity  he  served  until 
after  the  battle  of  Monterey.  He  was  in  all  of  the  five  days  of 
hot  fighting  in  the  assault  on  that  city,  and  was  especially  com 
plimented  upon  his  conduct.  He  returned  to  Texas  before 
the  conclusion  of  the  war,  and  at  the  urgent  solicitation  of  his 
wife  —  he  had  married  again  in  1843 — bought  a  planta 
tion  in  Brazoria  County,  Tex.,  and  settled  there  with  the  inten 
tion  of  making  it  his  permanent  home,  and  its  cultivation 
his  future  occupation. 

General  Johnston's  family,  when  he  settled  in  Brazoria  County 
upon  his  plantation,  known  as  China  Grove,  "consisted  of  his 
wife  and  infant  son,  a  negro  man  and  his  wife,  and  two  negro 
boys  and  a  girl."  He  had  few  neighbours,  as  this  region  was 
then  very  sparsely  inhabited,  only  one  near  him,  Col.  Warren 
D.  Hall,  who  had  been  one  of  Austin's  colonists,  and  had  taken 
a  prominent  part  in  the  earlier  revolutionary  movements.  His 
companionship  and  that  of  his  wife,  a  devoted  friend  of  Mrs. 
Johnston,  was  almost  the  sole  society  the  family  had  for  three 
years.  During  that  time  General  Johnston  laboured  hard  upon 
his  farm.  Each  year  he  raised  "a  crop  of  Indian  corn  for  bread 


i  io  REMINISCENCES  OF 

for  his  family  and  forage  for  his  work  animals;  a  crop  of  cotton 
for  the  purchase  of  supplies;  and  an  ample  supply  of  all  sorts  of 
vegetables."  Much  of  this  was  due  to  the  toil  of  his  own  hands. 
His  son,  speaking  of  this  period  of  life,  which  was  patriarchal 
in  its  simplicity,  says: 

"I  remember  that  some  years  after,  when  he  had  changed  his 
occupation,  a  wealthy  and  cultivated  friend  with  whom  we  were 
dining,  very  ingeniously  maintained  the  theory  that  manual 
labour  unfitted  a  man  for  the  higher  grades  of  thought  and  spheres 
of  action.  'What  you  say,'  replied  General  Johnston,  'seems 
very  plausible,  but  self-love  forbids  me  to  agree  with  you.  I 
have  ploughed  and  planted  and  gathered  the  harvest.  The 
spade,  the  hoe,  the  plough,  and  the  axe  are  familiar  to  my  hands, 
and  that  not  for  recreation,  but  for  bread." 

He  was  appointed  paymaster  in  the  United  States  army, 
October  31,  1849.  The  appointment  gave  him  the  nominal 
rank  of  major,  but  conferred  no  authority  or  command.  It 
necessitated,  however,  much  travelling,  and  upon  the  frontiers 
of  Texas,  where  his  duties  were  performed,  a  good  deal  of  arduous 
work,  not  unaccompanied  with  danger.  He  accepted  the  office 
only  because  he  hoped  it  would  assist  him  ultimately  to 
enter  the  line. 

In  1853  he  sold  his  plantation,  which  he  had  greatly  improved, 
upon  terms  which  enabled  him  to  discharge  his  entire  indebted 
ness;  but,  by  a  curious  freak  of  fortune,  he  had  no  sooner  obtained 
relief  from  a  condition  which  had  long  oppressed  him  than  he 
was  confronted  with  another  which  threatened  him  even  more 
seriously.  He  discovered  that  some  one  was  systematically 
plundering  the  government  funds  placed  in  his  charge.  His 
accounts  were  kept  very  carefully,  and  he  could  detect  almost 
the  exact  dates  at  which  the  money  was  taken,  although  he 
failed  for  some  months  to  catch  the  thief.  As  much  as  $1,700 
were  stolen  from  the  fund  in  1853.  He  made  no  report  of  these 
losses  to  the  government,  but  bore  them  himself;  thereby 
forfeiting  the  almost  entire  benefit  of  his  meagre  salary,  besides 
being  harassed  with  the  constant  fear  that  the  robberies  might 
eventually  amount  to  sums  so  large  that  he  would  not  be  able 
to  replace  them.  All  efforts  to  discover  the  perpetrator  of  the 
thefts  was  for  a  long  time  unavailing,  although  every  device 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  in 

and  the  utmost  vigilance  were  employed;  but  in  1855  they  were 
brought  home  to  a  negro  servant  of  General  Johnston,  who  had 
been  for  years  in  constant  attendance  upon  him,  was  a  great 
favourite  and  implicitly  trusted.  Indignation  against  the  negro 
was  strongly  aroused  among  all  who  had  known  of  these  pecula 
tions,  and  there  was  a  general  clamour  for  his  exemplary  punish 
ment.  General  Johnston  was  urged  to  compel  him  to  reveal 
the  names  of  his  accomplices,  as  it  was  believed  that  other  parties 
had  incited  him  to  the  thefts.  General  Johnston  would  not 
listen  to  this  suggestion.  "Evidence  so  obtained,"  he  said,  "is 
worthless.  Besides  the  whipping  will  not  restore  what  is  lost; 
and  it  will  not  benefit  the  negro  whom  a  lifetime  of  kind  treat 
ment  has  not  made  honest.  It  would  be  a  mere  act  of  revenge 
to  which  I  cannot  consent."  His  friends,  however,  insisted 
that  the  negro  should  be  sold  so-  that  the  proceeds  of  the  sale 
might  in  part  replace  the  money  he  had  stolen.  General  John 
ston  agreed  to  do  this,  permitting  the  negro  to  select  his  new 
master,  but  informing  the  purchaser  of  the  crime  he  had 
committed. 

In  1855  he  at  last  obtained  the  preferment  he  had  so  long 
desired  and  so  greatly  deserved.  His  friend  and  warm  admirer, 
Jefferson  Davis,  was  at  that  time  secretary  of  war,  and  princi 
pally  through  his  influence,  although  at  the  earnest  solicitation 
of  many  other  eminent  men,  General  Johnston  was  appointed 
colonel  of  the  Second  Regiment  of  dragoons,  U.  S.  A.,  which  had 
just  been  created  by  act  of  congress.  His  most  formidable 
competitor  for  this  much  coveted  position  was  the  justly  cele 
brated  Ben  McCulloch,  of  Texas.  The  Second  Dragoons  was 
an  exceedingly  fine  regiment,  and  the  most  famous,  perhaps, 
that  has  ever  been  in  the  regular  army  of  the  United  States. 
No  regiment  in  any  army  was  ever  better  officered  than  it  was 
at  the  date  of  its  organization,  and  until  the  beginning  of  the 
Civil  War.  Robert  E.  Lee  was  its  lieutenant-colonel.  Wm. 
J.  Hardee  and  George  H.  Thomas  —  whose  splendid  records 
on  different  and  opposing  sides  in  the  great  struggle  are  so  well 
known  —  were  appointed  its  majors.  Among  its  captains  who 
rose  to  high  rank  and  won  renown  in  the  Confederate  service 
were  E.  Kirby  Smith,  Earl  Van  Dorn,  and  N.  G.  Evans;  those 
of  like  grade  who  obtained  exalted  position  in  the  Union  ranks 


ii2  REMINISCENCES  OF 

were  J.  N.  Palmer,  George  Stoneman,  and  R.  W.  Johnson. 
Among  the  lieutenants  who  obtained  the  rank  of  general  in  the 
Confederate  army  were  John  B.  Hood,  Charles  W.  Field,  and 
Charles  Phifer.  Perhaps  in  no  modern  army  have  so  many  dis 
tinguished  soldiers  held  commissions  in  any  one  regiment. 

The  Second  Dragoons  seemed  to  be  a  favourite  corps  from  the 
date  of  its  creation,  and  was  recruited  with  enlistments  of  the 
very  best  material  within  an  unusually  brief  period.  It  was 
almost  immediately  ordered  upon  active  service,  and  was  con 
stantly  employed  for  two  years  upon  the  frontiers  of  Texas 
against  the  Indians.  In  a  series  of  arduous  campaigns  and  hotly 
contested  and  successful  combats  —  eleven  of  which  received 
complimentary  mention  in  one  general  order  —  it  fully  justified 
the  high  expectations  which  had  been  entertained  of  its  prowess. 

In  1857  the  troubles  with  Mormon  settlements  in  Utah, 
which  had  long  been  a  cause  of  apprehension  to  the  government 
of  the  United  States  and  of  indignation  to  the  people,  reached 
a  point  which  demanded  actual  and  very  nearly  armed  inter 
ference.  After  repeated  and  brutal  outrages  committed  against 
the  emigrants  travelling  from  the  older  states  to  the  Pacific 
Coast  and  insolent  refusal  upon  the  part  of  the  Mormons  to  make 
redress  or  even  promise  future  forbearance,  the  latter  at  length 
threatened  open  rebellion.  The  prophet  and  his  priests  incited 
them  to  every  conceivable  crime  provided  it  was  done  at  the 
expense  of  the  "Gentiles,"  and  preached  the  duty  of  resistance 
to  the  authority  of  the  United  States  Government  if  exerted  to 
protect  its  citizens.  Some  of  my  readers  will  probably  remem 
ber  the  terrible  massacre  at  Mountain  Meadows  in  Utah  perpe 
trated  in  September,  1857,  by  a  band  of  the  "Danites"  or 
"Destroying  Angels,"  acting,  as  was  afterward  clearly  proven, 
by  the  orders  of  Brigham  Young  and  his  chief  councillors.  These 
ruffians  attacked  an  emigrant  train  of  one  hundred  and  thirty- 
five  in  number  and  murdered  every  man  and  woman  in  it,  only 
sparing  seventeen  small  children. 

In  a  state  of  conditions  like  this  it  became  necessary  to  do 
something  more  than  merely  remonstrate.  A  strong  body  of 
regular  troops,  consisting  of  Colonel  Johnston's  regiment  of 
cavalry,  two  regiments  of  infantry,  and  two  batteries  of  artillery, 
with  supplies  for  two  thousand  five  hundred  men,  was  ordered 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  113 

to  proceed  to  Utah  and  occupy  Salt  Lake  City.  General  Harney 
was  at  first  indicated  as  the  commander  of  this  expedition, 
but  before  the  march  began  Colonel  Johnston  was  placed  in 
command  of  it. 

The  difficulties  and  dangers  attending  this  expedition  con 
sisted  chiefly  in  the  immense  distances  which  had  to  be  traversed 
through  a  wilderness  as  yet  barely  explored  —  part  of  it  a  desert 
—  and  the  fact  that  the  troops  were  exposed  to  the  terrible 
rigours  of  a  winter  upon  the  bleak  plains. 

The  Mormons  proved  to  be  as  cowardly  as  they  were  cruel; 
they  blustered  and  menaced,  and  Brigham  Young  assured  his 
followers  that  divine  protection  would  be  given  them  and  the 
divine  wrath  be  visited  on  their  enemies.  He  said,  in  allusion 
to  the  report  soon  afterward  confirmed,  that  President  Bu 
chanan  had  removed  him:  "I  am  and  will  be  governor  and  no 
power  can  hinder  it  until  the  Lord  Almighty  says,  'Brigham, 
you  need  not  be  governor  any  longer.'  Come  on  with  your  thou 
sand  of  illegally  ordered  troops  and  I  will  promise  you  in  the 
name  of  Israel's  God  that  you  shall  melt  away  as  snow  before  a 
July's  sun."  But  it  was  easier  and  safer  to  massacre  helpless 
emigrants  than  to  oppose  an  army  of  disciplined  and  veteran 
troops  under  a  resolute  commander,  so  the  "saints"  listened  to 
reason  and  abandoned  all  thought  of  armed  resistance.  The 
Hon.  Alfred  Cumming,  of  Georgia,  who  had  been  appointed 
governor  of  Utah  after  President  Buchanan  removed  Young, 
accompanied  and  was  escorted  by  the  troops.  He  reached  Salt 
Lake  City  on  April  18,  1858,  and  was  shortly  afterward  inaugu 
rated.  The  United  States  Commissioners,  the  Hon.  L.  W.  Powell 
and  Maj.  Ben  McCulloch,  arrived  on  June  7th,  received  Brigham 
Young's  formal  submission  and  issued  the  President's  proclama 
tion  of  general  amnesty. 

For  his  services  in  this  campaign  Colonel  Johnston  was  made 
brevet  brigadier-general.  He  remained  in  Utah  nearly  two 
years,  and  was  then  assigned  to  the  command  of  the  Depart 
ment  of  the  Pacific,  with  headquarters  at  San  Francisco.  He 
was  serving  in  this  capacity  when  the  war  between  the 
states  began,  and  resigned  his  commission  in  the  army 
of  the  United  States,  April  10,  1861,  to  offer  his  sword 
to  the  Confederacy. 


n4  REMINISCENCES  OF 

Many  of  us  can  still  remember  the  thrill  of  interest  we  felt 
when  we  heard  that  he  was  riding  with  a  few  companions  across 
the  continent  to  do  battle  for  the  South;  our  fear  that  he  would 
be  intercepted  and  made  prisoner,  and  our  joy  when  we  learned 
of  his  safe  arrival.  It  is  said  that  President  Davis  was  not  aware 
that  he  had  arrived  in  Richmond  when  he  made  his  first  call  at 
the  Executive  Mansion.  Mr.  Davis  heard  his  step  on  the  stair 
way  and  exclaimed  "That  is  Sidney  Johnston's  step.  Bring 
him  up." 

Every  account  which  has  been  furnished  of  the  public  and 
private  life  of  Albert  Sidney  Johnston  evinces  the  extraordinary 
impression  he  produced  upon  his  contemporaries,  and  all  that 
we  know  of  him  from  memoir,  reminiscence,  the  personal  tributes 
of  his  most  intimate  acquaintances,  and  official  testimony,  war 
rants  the  belief  that  he  was  a  great  man.  There  was  in  his 
nature  a  stalwart  manliness,  a  moral  grandeur,  shaping  his 
action  in  every  situation,  and  which,  totally  without  harsh  or 
imperious  assertion,  yet  dominated,  or  at  least  largely  influenced, 
all  who  approached  him.  Very  many  testimonials  from  those 
who  came  personally  in  contact  -with  him  prove  how  generally 
this  influence  was  felt  and  acknowledged.  His  manner  and  bear 
ing,  while  kind  and  courteous,  were  inexpressibly  majestic, 
and  seemed  the  unmistakable  index  of  a  lofty  character.  He 
exercised  control  and  leadership  without  effort,  and  under  all 
circumstances  displayed  the  inborn  faculty  of  command.  It 
served  him  with  all  kinds  and  classes  of  men  —  the  rough  fron 
tiersmen  and  even  the  wild  Comanches  instantly  recognized 
his  superiority. 

Much  of  this  power  to  impress  those  of  his  own  rank  and 
condition  in  life  was  due,  undoubtedly,  to  the  exalted  sentiment 
expressed  on  all  occasions  in  his  language  and  demeanour,  and 
before  which  a  meaner  feeling  was  abashed.  His  friend  and 
comrade  of  the  old  army,  Captain  Eaton,  relates  this  circum 
stance,  which  occurred  during  the  Black  Hawk  War: 

"On  the  same  campaign  an  incident  happened,  illustrating 
Lieutenant  Johnston's  keen  sense  of  propriety,  his  respect  for 
female  virtue,  and  his  power  of  rebuke.  One  evening,  as  a  group 
of  officers  were  talking  in  the  tent  of  one  of  them,  a  Lieutenant 
,  who  was  of  a  coarse  and  vulgar  nature,  and  who  was 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  115 

eventually  dismissed  from  the  service,  said  he  did  not  believe 
in  female  virtue.  Lieutenant  Johnston  at  once  arose  and  said : 

'Mr. ,  you  have  a  mother,  and,  I  believe,  a  sister.'       He 

made  no  other  remark:  but  the  rebuke  silenced  Lieutenant , 

and,  vulgar  as  he  was,  he  hung  his  head  in  shame  and  confusion. 
I  never  knew  a  man  who  could  give  a  rebuke  with  more  crushing 
effect  than  Albert  Sidney  Johnston." 

Col.  Samuel  Churchill,  of  St.  Louis,  who  knew  him  extremely 
well,  told  me  of  an  instance  showing  how  happily  General  John 
ston  could  deal  with  men  not  usually  supposed  to  be  amenable 
to  such  influence;  and  the  Colonel  stated  that  while  it  surprised 
it  also  greatly  amused  him.  He  said  that  upon  one  occasion 
General  Johnston  himself,  and  two  or  three  other  friends  were 
on  a  steam-boat  en  route  from  St.  Louis  to  New  Orleans.  When 
only  a  short  distance  from  St.  Louis  one  of  the  party  was  taken 
sick  and  soon  developed  unmistakable  symptoms  of  small-pox. 
The  nature  of  his  malady  was  concealed  as  carefully  as  possible 
from  the  passengers  and  crew,  but  the  officers  of  the  boat  were 
of  course  immediately  informed  of  it.  It  was  thought  best 
that  he  should  be  as  speedily  as  practicable  transferred  to  some 
steamer  returning  to  St.  Louis,  not  only  that  he  might  at  once 
receive  proper  treatment,  but  because  in  the  long  trip  to  New 
Orleans  the  danger  of  contagion  to  others  would  be  greatly 
increased.  But  the  difficulty  of  procuring  passage  for  him  on 
another  boat  at  once  suggested  itself;  its  officers  would  certainly 
be  very  loath  to  receive  such  a  passenger. 

Steam-boat  men  in  those  days  were  a  very  autocratic  kind  of 
gentry  and  not  easily  induced  to  consent  to  anything  they  did 
not  wish  to  do.  It  was  agreed,  however,  that  the  attempt 
should  be  made.  In  a  little  while  a  boat  coming  up  stream  was 
sighted.  The  captain  of  the  south-bound  steamer  declared, 
however,  that  there  would  be  no  use  in  trying  the  experiment 
in  that  case.  "I  recognize  that  boat,"  he  said,  giving  her  name, 

"and  old  John commands  her.     He's  the  roughest  man  on 

the  river,  and  he'll  swear  the  scalps  off  our  heads  if  we  propose 
such  a  thing  to  him." 

"Oh,  no,"  said  General  Johnston,  very  quietly.  "I'll  arrange 
the  matter  with  him.  You  get  your  gang-plank  ready,  signal 
the  other  boat  and  make  preparations  to  take  the  patient  on 


ii6  REMINISCENCES  OF 

board  of  her  without  delay."  His  directions  were  obeyed,  and 
as  soon  as  the  boats  were  alongside  and  the  plank  connected 
them,  General  Johnston  crossed  it  and  stepped  up  to  the  re 
doubtable  captain,  who  was  standing  on  the  lower  deck  waiting 
to  know  what  was  wanted.  "Captain,"  he  said,  saluting  him 
politely  and  speaking  in  a  matter  of  fact  way,  "I  am  Colonel 
Johnston,  of  the  United  States  army.  A  friend  of  mine  on  our 
boat  was  taken  ill  with  small-pox  just  after  we  left  St.  Louis 
and  I've  come  to  ask  you  to  take  him  back  there.  Please  have 
a  state-room  prepared  for  him  and  I  shall  send  him  on  board." 

All  those  who  were  in  the  secret  had  collected  to  witness  the 
anticipated  stormy  scene,  Colonel  Churchill,  who,  also,  knew  the 
fierce  river  despot  that  his  friend  was  bearding,  being  present. 
All  expected  an  explosion  which  would  wreck  the  surroundings, 
and  perhaps  turn  back  the  tide  of  the  Mississippi.  But  to  their 
infinite  astonishment,  the  captain,  after  scanning  the  general 
from  head  to  foot  and  looking  him  a  few  seconds  in  the  eye, 
answered,  "All  right,  sir!  Bring  your  man  aboard.  I'll  get  a 
room  ready  for  him;  but  tell  them  who  bring  him  to  say  blamed 
little  about  it."  Then  turning  to  a  few  of  his  own  people  who 
were  listening  in  open-mouthed  amazement,  he  added  with  a 
growl  like  that  of  a  grizzly,  "And  if  any  of  you  d — d  whelps 
chirp  about  this,  I'll  break  his  neck  with  a  capstan  bar  and  then 
fling  him  in  the  river." 

Some  very  able  and  distinguished  men  served  upon  General 
Johnston's  staff  and  were  closely  in  his  confidence  during  the 
campaign  which  preceded  the  battle  of  Shiloh;  such  men  as  Col. 
H.  P.  Brewster,  of  Texas;  Governor,  afterward  United  States 
Senator,  Isham  G.  Harris,  of  Tennessee;  the  poet  soldier,  Theo 
dore  O'Hara,  and  Col.  Robert  W.  Johnson  and  Maj.  D.  M. 
Haydon,  of  Kentucky;  and  first,  perhaps,  of  all  of  these  strong 
men  and  splendid  gentlemen,  William  Preston,  General  John 
ston's  brother-in-law,  who  has  been  termed  "the  last  of  the 
cavaliers."  Some  of  them  had  known  him  for  many  years. 
Some  knew  him  only  in  those  last  months  of  his  life,  but  all  had 
learned  to  feel  for  him  a  devoted  friendship  and  loyalty;  all 
warmly  testified  to  the  grandeur  and  majesty  of  his  character, 
and  the  dignity  and  fortitude  with  which  he  bore  himself  in  the 
ordeal  to  which  he  was  subjected.  Preston  won  distinction  in 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  117 

many  ways,  in  congressional  and  diplomatic  service,  in  social 
life  and  in  the  field.  He  was  a  man  of  wide  and  varied  culture, 
and  his  knowledge  of  men  was  shrewd  and  extensive.  His 
estimate  or  opinion,  therefore,  of  any  man  he  knew  well  was 
valuable,  and  apt  to  be  just.  His  admiration  for  General 
Johnston  was  extreme.  He  ranked  him  very  high,  and  told  me 
that  he  had  observed,  from  his  earliest  acquaintance  with  him, 
that  extraordinary  personal  influence  he  could  exert,  and  of 
which  he  had  witnessed  many  instances. 

I  had  myself  a  somewhat  curious  experience  of  this  power  of 
his,  in  the  only  interview,  if  it  could  be  termed  such,  that  I 
ever  had  with  General  Johnston.  My  regard  and  admiration  for 
him  had  been  taught  me  from  infancy.  He  and  my  father  had 
known  each  other  intimately  from  their  earliest  boyhood  and 
had  been  warm  friends  until  the  latter's  death.  I  had  never 
seen  him,  however,  until  he  came  to  take  command  of  the  army 
in  Kentucky,  and  was,  of  course,  entirely  unknown  to  him. 
His  face  and  figure  became  very  familiar  to  the  troops  serving 
under  him,  for  he  visited  the  camps  frequently,  and  was  active 
in  inspection  and  all  such  duties.  It  was  easy  to  single  him  out 
from  the  crowd,  no  matter  by  how  many  he  might  be  surrounded; 
and  I  often  noted  how  completely  his  striking  appearance  and 
commanding  demeanour  seemed  to  make  men,  who  would 
have  been  imposing  in  any  other  presence,  shrink  into  ordinary 
humanity  when  contrasted  with  him.  I  never  saw  him  without 
hoping  that  I  would  sometime  have  an  opportunity  to  make 
myself  known  to  him  as  the  son  of  his  old  friend. 

Such  an  opportunity  finally  occurred,  but  I  signally  failed  to 
utilize  it.  I  had  occasion,  during  the  winter  that  the  army  lay 
around  Bowling  Green,  to  visit  his  headquarters;  I  was  then 
adjutant  of  Morgan's  squadron,  and  had  been  sent  to  see  an 
officer  of  General  Johnston's  staff  on  some  business.  While 
seated  in  one  of  the  rooms  of  the  headquarters,  before  a  comfort 
able  fire,  awaiting  the  coming  of  the  officer  I  wished  to  see,  the 
door  was  suddenly  opened  and  General  Johnston  entered.  He 
seemed  disappointed  at  not  finding  some  one  for  whom  he  was 
looking,  but  spoke  to  me  very  courteously. 

Here  was  my  chance  —  but  in  that  noble  and  almost  awe- 
inspiring  presence,  I  found  it  impossible  to  execute  my  purpose, 


n8  REMINISCENCES  OF 

and  verily  believe  lost,  temporarily,  all  power  of  speech.  I  arose 
from  my  chair,  and,  without  a  word,  bowed  profoundly.  He 
returned  my  bow  as  politely  as  if  a  general  officer  had  been  before 
him  —  although  I  am  sure  he  took  me  for  a  courier  —  and  said, 
"  Keep  your  seat,  sir,  I  see  that  you  have  been  riding  in  the  rain 
and  cold."  I  felt  as  if  I  could  have  picked  up  a  shell  about  to 
burst  more  readily  than  I  could  have  resumed  my  chair  while 
he  was  standing,  so,  still  silent,  I  simply  bowed  again.  He 
repeated,  very  kindly,  "Sit  down,  my  son.  Don't  mind  me. 
Sit  and  warm  yourself."  I  bowed  the  third  time  without  speak 
ing.  He  evidently  realized  my  feeling  and  that  I  would  never 
consent  to  be  seated  while  he  was  present.  After  a  moment, 
he  smiled,  as  if  greatly  amused,  made  me  the  most  magnificent 
bow  I  ever  saw  and  walked  out  of  the  room. 

When  it  was  too  late  I,  of  course,  heartily  regretted  and  re 
proached  myself  for  my  lack  of  courage.  His  manner  and  speech 
were  so  kind  and  considerate  that  I  felt  assured  he  would  have 
given  me  a  cordial  greeting  if  I  had  introduced  myself,  as  I  had 
originally  intended  to  do. 

Deeply  as  we  had  reason  to  deplore  General  Johnston's  death 
when  it  deprived  the  South  of  his  sword,  his  countrymen  do  not 
now  altogether  regret  it;  for  no  more  striking  and  splendid  inci 
dent  is  recorded  in  the  pages  of  Confederate  glory,  and  none 
that  Confederate  soldiers  can  remember  with  juster  and  pro- 
founder  pride.  He,  the  commander-in-chief,  died  literally 
at  the  head  and  in  the  front  of  his  army.  After  leading  his  men 
in  the  fiercest  storm  of  battle  and  making  them  invincible  by  his 
inspiration  and  example,  he  fell  amid  the  thunder  of  the  strife 
and  in  the  very  moment  of  victory.  The  wound  of  which  he 
died  was  not  necessarily  fatal;  if  it  had  received  proper  atten 
tion  it  would  riot  have  been  even  serious.  An  artery  of  his  right 
leg  was  torn  by  a  minie  ball,  but  his  life  could  have  been  saved 
if  any  one  had  been  with  him  to  apply  the  simplest  means  of 
arresting  the  hemorrhage.  He  had  despatched  all  the  members 
of  his  staff  in  different  directions  with  important  orders,  and  he, 
his  mind  occupied  with  the  conduct  of  the  battle,  gave  no  heed 
to  his  hurt,  was  perhaps  not  aware  of  it.  The  absence  of  his 
surgeon,  Dr.  David  W.  Yandell,  at  the  critical  moment  was  due 
to  General  Johnston's  own  positive  orders,  and  the  nature  of 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  119 

these  instructions,  and  the  fact  that  they  probably  occasioned 
his  death,  seem  in  perfect  keeping  with  the  exalted  character 
of  the  man.  His  son  thus  tells  the  story: 

"Dr.  D.  W.  Yandell  had  attended  his  person  during  most  of 
the  morning,  but  finding  a  large  number  of  wounded  men,  includ 
ing  many  Federals,  at  one  point,  General  Johnston  ordered 
Yandell  to  stop  there,  establish  a  hospital,  and  give  them  his 
services.  He  said  to  Yandell,  "These  men  were  our  enemies 
a  moment  ago;  they  are  prisoners  now;  take  care  of  them." 

"Dr.  Yandell  remonstrated  against  leaving  him,  but  he  was 
peremptory,  and  the  doctor  began  his  work.  He  saw  General 
Johnston  no  more.  Had  Yandell  remained  with  him,  he  would 
have  had  little  difficulty  with  the  wound.  It  was  this  act  of 
unselfish  chanty  which  cost  him  his  life." 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE  French  have  a  term  which  happily  describes  the  ser 
vice  performed  by  partisan  troops  or  the  somewhat 
irregular  operations  of  small  detachments,  as  contra 
distinguished  from  the  movements  of  large  armies  and  war, 
conducted  on  a  grand  scale.  They  term  the  former  "The  Little 
War."  But  there  has  always  prevailed  during  prolonged  and 
bitterly  contested  national  or  internecine  strife  another  sort  of 
conflict  still,  wilder,  and  fiercer,  altogether  outside  of  the  pale 
of  legitimate  warfare  and  unrecognized  by  its  rules  and  regula 
tions.  Sometimes  this  private  and  lawless  violence  is  directed 
purely  to  rapine,  as  gangs  of  marauders  often  hover  in  the  vicinity 
of  armies  and  infest  war-stricken  territory;  more  frequently  it 
is  an  attempt  to  wreak  revenge  for  some  of  the  many  wrongs  and 
hardships  which  legitimate  warfare,  however  mercifully  com 
manding  generals  may  seek  to  prosecute  it,  invariably  inflicts 
on  non-combatants.  In  the  latter  case  the  citizen,  without 
assuming  the  duties  of  the  soldier,  does  even  bloodier  work,  and 
becomes  the  more  ferocious  fighter. 

In  Europe,  of  course,during  the  mediaeval  period,  and  especially 
while  the  feudal  system  was  still  in  force,  when  all  social  life, 
it  might  be  said,  was  one  cruel,  and  almost  continuous  strife,  these 
conditions  were  chronic  and  nearly  universal;  for  then  the  transi 
tion  from  the  peasant  to  the  soldier,  and  from  either  to  the  bandit 
was  easy.  As  the  proverb  of  the  times  put  it,  when  a  man's 
house  was  burned  he  became  soldier  or  brigand. 

But  at  a  yet  later  date  these  same  conditions  were  the  invaria 
ble  concomitants  of  warfare,  and  were  widely  prevalent  in  every 
war  waged  in  Europe  from  the  inception  of  what  may  be  termed 
modern  civilization  down  to  our  own  era.  Perhaps  the  savage, 
sustained,  and  inexorable  armed  resistance  of  the  Spanish  guerillas 
to  the  armies  of  Napoleon  —  a  resistance  far  braver  and  more 
effective  than  any  offered  by  the  regular  Spanish  troops  —  fur 
nishes  the  most  memorable  example  in  modern  history  of  how  an 

120 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  121 

aroused,  although  unorganized,  populace  can  sometimes  fight; 
but  the  terrible  devastation  and  oppression  wrought  in  the 
Napoleonic  wars  everywhere  on  the  continent,  and  the  hatred 
and  resentment  so  engendered,  induced,  although  not  to  so 
great  an  extent,  similar  reprisals  from  every  maltreated  people. 

Numerous  instances  in  our  own  Civil  War  prove  how  history 
repeats  itself  in  this  as  in  all  other  respects;  although  it  should 
be  said  that  with  us,  on  both  sides,  many  of  those,  who,  properly 
speaking,  were  "non-combatants,"  yet  arrogated  belligerent 
rights,  were  induced  to  do  so  as  much  by  an  excess  of  political 
zeal  as  because  of  actual  injury.  In  the  South  and  in  the  border 
states,  where  war  was  actively  waged,  this  form  of  protest  against 
invasion  was  common,  and  it  became  more  general  and  gradually 
acquired  something  like  organization  in  proportion  to  the  duration 
of  armed  occupation  or  frequency  of  hostile  incursion.  It  would 
doubtless  have  been  manifest  in  the  Northern  states  also,had  they, 
too,  been  held  or  traversed  for  any  considerable  period  by  hostile 
forces.  In  the  more  Southern  states,  those  which  peculiarly  con 
stituted  Confederate  territory,  the  men  who  conducted  this 
irregular  warfare,  were  almost  always  Southern  in  sentiment. 
But,  with  few  exceptions,  they  were  in  Kentucky  and  Ten 
nessee  mountains  "Union  men."  They  belonged,  as  a  rule,  to 
that  part  of  the  population  which  had  never  been  in  sympathy 
with  their  slave-holding  neighbours,  and  abhorred  the  "  rebel 
lion,"  not  so  much  because  they  thought  it  wrong,  but  because 
it  had  been  inaugurated  by  a  class  with  which  they  had  never 
been  in  friendly  accord. 

The  specific  appellation  by  which  these  gentry  were  known 
was  "bushwhacker,"  bestowed,  doubtless  because  of  their 
predilection  for  lurking  in  ambush  and  firing  on  their  enemies 
from  hiding  places  more  or  less  secure.  The  bushwhacker, 
however,  although  probably  quite  similar  in  character  and 
methods  to  the  Spanish  guerilla,  should  not  be  confounded  with 
those  whom  we  termed  "guerillas"  in  our  war.  The  latter 
designation  was  applied  to  men  who,  having  deserted  from  one 
or  the  other  army,  had  then  resorted  to  unqualified  brigandage 
—  their  hand,  like  Ishmael's,  being  "against  all  other  men." 

Nor  again  should  either  the  guerilla  or  bushwhacker  be 
confounded  with  the  "home  guard."  The  home  guard 


122  REMINISCENCES  OF 

organizations,  both  of  the  North  and  the  South,  although  their 
regular  members  were  not  enlisted  in  the  armies  nor  required  to 
perform  service,  were  yet  recognized  by  law,  and  were  indeed  part 
of  the  militia  forces  of  the  states  wherein  they  were  formed. 
They  were  organized  and  armed,  as  their  name  indicates,  for  the 
protection  of  the  localities  where  they  resided,  so  far  as  their 
efforts  were  adequate  to  its  protection. 

These  bushwhackers  were  capable  of  making  themselves  ex 
ceedingly  disagreeable.  Large  districts  of  country  were  some 
times  so  infested  by  them  that  only  strong  bodies  or  troops 
could  pass  with  any  sort  of  security.  It  was  almost  certain 
death  to  an  enemy,  or  even  a  man  whom  they  suspected  of 
enmity,  to  fall  into  their  hands.  They  rarely  gave  quarter  or 
showed  mercy.  They  could  not,  of  course,  make  head  in  the 
open  against  any  force  of  regular  and  trained  soldiers  unless  it 
were  greatly  their  inferior  in  numbers;  but  fighting,  as  I  have 
said,  from  ambush  and  under  close  cover,  they  were  dangerous 
foes,  even  for  the  best  troops,  on  their  own  chosen  ground.  They 
understood  the  war  of  the  forest  and  the  fastness,  of  the  rock 
and  the  mountain,  as  well  as  did  the  red  savages  who  were  their 
predecessors  in  territory  and  temper.  The  cavalry  of  the  Army 
of  Tennessee,  and  especially  Morgan's  command,  had  an  exten 
sive  and  varied  experience  with  them.  When  in  our  expeditions 
into  Kentucky  we  were  required  to  march  through  any  region 
where  they  harboured  we  received  abundant  attention  from  them. 
In  the  counties  of  Tennessee  lying  along  the  upper  Cumberland, 
our  pickets  and  scouting  parties  had  greatly  more  trouble  with 
them  than  with  the  outlying  Federal  cavalry.  In  the  latter 
part  of  the  war  when  I  was  serving  in  West  Virginia,  and  the 
small  brigade  I  commanded  drew  its  forage  from  Johnson 
County  in  east  Tennessee,  I  was  compelled  to  make  strong 
detatchments  from  it  to  protect  the  foragers  from  the  bush 
whackers  with  which  that  locality  was  swarming.  During  Gen 
eral  Bragg' s  retreat  from  Kentucky,  in  October,  1862,  his  march 
through  the  mountains  to  Cumberland  Gap  was  greatly  harassed 
by  them.  They  collected  in  considerable  numbers  and  fired 
from  every  point  of  vantage  upon  his  column,  inflicting  smart 
loss,  but  doing  some  service  by  minimizing  straggling.  With 
much  difficulty  Bragg  finally  captured  sixteen  of  them,  whom  he 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  123 

immediately  hung  up  on  the  side  of  the  road  "by  way  of  encour 
aging  the  others. "  The  most  redoubtable  leader  of  these  fierce 
people  in  Tennessee  was  "  Tinker  Dave  Beattie. "  This  man  was 
bold,  astute,  ferocious,  and  unrelenting  in  purpose  and  hatred. 
He  had  drawn  to  himself  a  large  following,  over  which  his 
control  was  as  absolute  as  any  ever  exercised  by  one  of  the  old 
Scottish  Highland  chieftains  over  his  clan. 

The  most  celebrated  and  successful  exponent  of  this  irregular 
warfare,  on  the  Southern  side,  was  Champe  Ferguson,  a  native 
of  Clinton  County,  Ky.  Ferguson  could  hardly  be  called  a 
bushwhacker,  although  in  his  methods  he  much  resembled  them. 
He  had  a  company  of  men,  and  very  daring  fighters  they  were, 
too,  who,  although  not  enlisted  in  the  Confederate  service,  were 
intensely  attached  to  Ferguson  and  sworn  to  aid  the  Southern 
cause  by  some  sort  of  obligation  which  they  apparently  deemed 
as  binding  and  inviolable  us  any  oath  of  military  allegiance. 
While  Ferguson  undertook  many  expeditions  on  his  own  private 
account  and  acknowledged  no  obedience  to  Confederate  orders 
generally,  he  nevertheless  served  frequently  with  the  Confed 
erate  cavalry  commands,  particularly  Morgan's,  and  not  only 
did  good  service,  but  for  the  time  being  strictly  obeyed  commands 
and  abstained  from  evil  practices.  Although  I  had  often  before 
heard  of  him  I  saw  him  for  the  first  time  when  we  were  just 
starting  on  the  July  raid  into  Kentucky,  1862.  I  utilized  the  first 
convenient  occasion  which  occurred  to  impress  upon  him  the 
necessity  of  observing  —  while  with  us  —  the  rules  of  civilized 
warfare,  and  that  he  must  not  attempt  to  kill  prisoners. 

"I  have  nothing  to  do  or  say,"  I  told  him,  "about  the  pris 
oners  you  take  on  your  own  independent  expeditions  against 
your  private  enemies,  but  you  musn't  kill  prisoners  taken 
by  us." 

"Why,  Colonel  Duke, "  he  answered,  "I've  got  sense.  I  know 
it  ain't  looked  on  as  right  to  treat  reg'lar  soldiers  tuk  in  battle 
in  that  way.  Besides,  I  don't  want  to  do  it.  I  haven't  got 
no  feeling  agin  these  Yankee  soldiers,  except  that  they  are  wrong, 
and  oughtn't  to  come  down  here  and  fight  our  people.  I  won't 
tech  them;  but  when  I  catches  any  of  them  hounds  I've  got 
good  cause  to  kill,  I'm  goin'  to  kill  'em. " 

I  repeated  my   previous  declaration  that  I  had  no  right  to 


124  REMINISCENCES  OF 

interfere  or  advise  regarding  that  matter;  and  then,  wishing  to 
satisfy  some  curiosity  I  entertained  on  the  subject,  said: 

"Champe,  how  many  men  have  you  killed?" 

He  responded  with  some  feeling:  "I  ain't  killed  nigh  as  many 
men  as  they  say  I  have;  folks  has  lied  about  me  powerful.  I 
ain't  killed  but  thirty-two  men  since  this  war  commenced. " 

The  war  had  then  lasted  about  eighteen  months.  He  added 
to  the  number  quite  largely  after  that,  but  just  before  the  close 
of  the  war  he  lost  the  notched  stick  on  which  he  kept  his  count, 
and  died  in  ignorance  of  the  exact  total. 

Ferguson's  intense  hostility  to  the  parties  to  whom  he  alluded 
as  his  personal  enemies  was  due  to  the  maltreatment  of  his  wife 
and  daughter  by  them  at  the  very  beginning  of  the  war.  Cer 
tain  of  his  Union  neighbours,  who,  perhaps,  also  had  a  grudge 
against  him,  for  he  was  a  man  well  calculated  to  arouse  such 
feeling,  visited  his  house  during  his  absence  and  brutally  whipped 
the  women.  He  proceeded  to  hunt  and  kill  every  man  engaged 
in  this  outrage,  and,  having  acquired  the  habit  of  so  dealing  with 
that  sort  of  people,  never  gave  it  up. 

.  He  was  a  rough-looking  man  but  of  striking  and  rather  pre 
possessing  appearance,  more  than  six  feet  in  height  and  very 
powerfully  built.  His  complexion  was  florid,  and  his  hair  jet- 
black,  crowning  his  head  with  thick  curls.  He  had  one  pecu- 
lliarity  of  feature  which  I  remember  to  have  seen  in  only  two  or 
three  other  men,  and  each  of  these  was,  like  himself,  a  man  of 
despotic  will  and  fearless,  ferocious  temper.  The  pupil  and  iris 
of  the  eye  were  of  nearly  the  same  colour,  and,  except  to  the 
closest  inspection,  seemed  perfectly  blended.  His  personal 
adventures,  combats,  and  encounters  were  innumerable.  Some 
of  his  escapes,  when  assailed  by  great  odds,  were  almost  incredi 
ble  and  could  be  explained  only  by  his  great  bodily  strength, 
activity,  adroitness  in  the  use  of  his  weapons  and  savage  energy. 
One  of  his  most  formidable  enemies,  a  man  little  inferior  to  him 
self  in  the  qualities  I  have  described  as  characterizing  Ferguson, 
was  a  mountaineer  named  Elam  Huddlestone,  chief  of  a  noted 
gang  of  bushwhackers.  Huddlestone  and  Ferguson  sought  each 
other  with  inveterate  animosity,  and  had  several  indecisive  en 
counters.  Finally,  on  one  occasion,  during  the  December  raid 
into  Kentucky,  Ferguson  obtained  certain  information  of  where 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  125 

Huddlestone  could  be  found  that  same  night,  and  immediately 
started,  with  two  or  three  of  his  most  determined  followers,  and 
the  fixed  resolution  that  the  feud  should  be  ended  then  and 
there  with  the  death  of  one  of  them. 

They  reached  the  house  about  midnight  and  approached  it 
cautiously;  but  one  of  Huddlestone's  men,  stationed  in  the 
garret,  and  evidently  instructed  to  be  on  watch,  discovered  them 
and  fired.  Ferguson's  followers  returned  the  fire  but  Ferguson 
himself  sprang  quickly  and  savagely  against  the  door,  burst 
it  open  and  bounded  into  the  house.  Huddlestone  and  one  of  his 
band  had  been  asleep  before  the  fire  and  were  just  rising  from  the 
floor  when  Ferguson .  entered.  He  threw  himself  upon  them, 
and  after  a  short  but  desperate  fight,  killed  both  with  his  knife. 
I  shall  never  forget  how  that  terrible  weapon  looked  when 
Ferguson  showed  it  to  me  the  next  day  and  related  the  story  I 
have  just  repeated.  I  had  been  severely  wounded  in  the  head 
a  few  days  previously,  was  still  faint  and  sick  from  the  wound, 
and  the  sight  of  that  knife,  still  covered  with  clotted  blood, 
thoroughly  nauseated  me. 

Ferguson's  last  exploit  would  have  gotten  him  into  serious 
trouble  with  the  Confederate  authorities  if  it  had  not  occurred 
just  before  the  close  of  the  war.  Among  a  number  of  wounded 
men,  both  Federal  and  Confederate,  who  were  lying  in  hospital 
in  south-western  Virginia,  was  a  Lieutenant-colonel  Smith,  a 
Federal  officer,  whose  death  Ferguson  had  sworn  in  retaliation 
for  the  death  of  his  friend,  Major  Bledsoe,  who  had  been  killed 
by  Smith  after  he  had  been  made  prisoner.  Ferguson  broke  into 
the  hospital,  overpowered  the  guard  and  shot  Smith  in  his  bed. 
Orders  were  immediately  issued  for  his  arrest  and  trial,  but  hos 
tilities  ceased  and  Confederate  authority  was  at  an  end  before  he 
could  be  found. 

Instead  of  leaving  the  country  or  remaining  in  hiding  after 
the  close  of  the  war,  Ferguson,  with  that  strange  recklessness 
which  characterized  such  men,  returned  to  Sparta,  Tennessee, 
which  he  had  claimed  for  some  years  as  his  residence,  and  lived 
there  openly  and  apparently  with  no  apprehension.  It  is  even 
asserted  that  he  obtained  a  parole,  such  as  was  given  the  Con 
federate  soldiers  after  final  surrender.  But  he  was  in 
a  few  months  arrested  by  the  Federal  authorities  for 


126  REMINISCENCES  OF 

the    murder    of    Smith,    tried    tyy    court-martial,     convicted 
and   executed. 

» 

Among  the  many  novel  and  original  methods,  and,  I  think 
I  can  justly  claim,  improvements,  which  Gen.  John  H. 
Morgan  introduced  into  modern  warfare,  that  from  which  he 
obtained  perhaps  the  most  satisfactory  results  was  his  use  of  the 
telegraph.  Not  even  the  complete  system  of  railroad  wrecking, 
in  which  he  was  the  pioneer,  and  by  which  his  operations  on  the 
enemy's  lines  of  communication  were  rendered  so  successful, 
more  thoroughly  aided  his  own  enterprises,  although  of  more 
benefit  to  the  armies  with  which  his  cavalry  was  serving.  He  was 
the  first  officer  who  conceived  the  idea  of  employing  the  tele 
graph  to  procure  information  of  what  his  enemy  was  doing 
or  purposed  to  do,  and  to  mislead  him  in  regard  to  his  own 
movements. 

Very  soon  after  he  began  to  recruit  and  organize  his  command, 
he  secured  the  services  of  a  skilful  telegraphic  operator,  a  Cana 
dian  by  birth,  but  who  had  lived  in  the  South  for  several  years 
just  preceding  the  war.  This  man,  George  A.  Ellsworth,  be 
came  quite  famous  fof1  his  peculiar  exploits  in  his  own  line,  and 
was  indeed  remarkably  adroit  and  capable  in  everything  con 
nected  with  his  vocation  and  the  uses  to  which  he  was  required 
to  apply  his  art.  He  was  furnished  with  the  necessary  in 
struments  and  material  for  his  work,  which  an  assistant  always 
carried  and  had  ready  for  use;  and  sometimes  on  his  motion,  but 
most  usually  under  General  Morgan's  immediate  direction,  he 
"milked  the  wires"  in  a  marvellous  way.  This  sort  of  thing 
appealed,  of  course,  strongly  to  the  imagination  of  the  soldiers, 
and  Ellsworth,  better  known  by  his  sobriquet  of  "Lightning," 
became  very  popular. 

He  would  frequently  attach  his  wire  to  the  main  telegraph  line, 
at  some  convenient  spot  where  there  was  no  fear  of  interruption, 
and  take  off  the  messages  passing  between  various  points  on  the 
line,  reading  them  by  the  click  of  the  instrument.  But  when  it 
was  decided  to  procure  fuller  or  more  definite  information, 
or  to  send  messages  intended  to  mislead,  it  was  necessary  to  take 
possession  of  some  telegraph  office,  and  seize  and  hold  prisoner 
the  regular  operator  until  the  work  was  accomplished  and  to 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  127 

prevent  his  giving  the  alarm.  Ellsworth  would,  in  such  case, 
take  the  chair,  personate  his  captive,  and  carry  on  brisk  conver 
sations  with  his  brother-artists  who  happend  to  be  on  duty  at 
the  points  with  which  he  wished  to  hold  communication.  His 
success  in  dealing  with  those  upon  whom  he  would  attempt  this 
deception,  and  especially  after  it  had  become  generally  known 
that  he  was  accustomed  to  practise  such  artifices,  was  extraor 
dinary.  His  personal  acquaintance  with  the  operators  employed 
at  that  time  in  Kentucky  and  Tennessee,  and  with  the  habits  of 
the  brotherhood  —  who  seemed  to  be  all  inveterate  gossips,  con 
stantly  chatting  with  one  another  over  the  wires  when  not 
seriously  employed  —  and  his  intimate  knowledge  of  everything 
connected  with  the  business,  generally  enabled  him  to  escape 
detection.  On  more  than  one  occasion  I  have  seen  him  allay 
suspicion,  even  when  it  was  thoroughly  aroused,  answering,  with 
apparently  careless  merriment  or  irresistible  simplicity,  every 
question  propounded  to  test  his  identity. 

"You  are  Ellsworth,"  once  said  an  irate  operator  —  another 
Canuck,  by  the  way  —  "  and  you  d  —  d  bloke,  you  can't  make 
a  fool  of  me. " 

"The  Almighty  has  spared  me  that  trouble,"  retorted  "Light 
ning.  "  "But  don't  you  know,  you  Canadian  ass,  that  Ells 
worth  is  sick  at  Knoxville?" 

Then  ensued  a  long  and  angry  colloquy,  in  the  course  of  which, 
however,  Ellsworth  succeeded  in  imbuing  his  skeptical  auditor 
with  the  very  belief  he  had  intended  from  the  first  to  induce. 

He  would  sometimes  on  such  occasions  compel  the  captured 
operator  to  telegraph  at  his  dictation,  meanwhile  observing  very 
carefully  the  man's  manner  of  working  the  instrument.  Then 
having  apparently  caught  his  style  or  "handwriting,"  he  would 
take  the  instrument  himself. 

Ellsworth's  greatest  triumphs,  with  the  exception  of  those 
achieved  during  the  Ohio  raid,  were  on  the  first  or  "July  raid" 
into  Kentucky  in  1862.  His  despatches,  purporting  to  come  from 
the  regular  operators,  of  course,  sent  from  Midway  and  George 
town,  thoroughly  confused  the  Federal  commanders  at  Lexington, 
Frankfort  and  Paris,  and  sent  them  moving  in  all  directions  save 
the  one  they  should  have  pursued  in  order  to  encounter  Morgan, 
while  the  latter,  with  one  fourth  of  their  number,  was  resting  at 


128  REMINISCENCES  OF 

Georgetown,  in  easy  reach  of  each  hostile  force.  At  Somerset, 
just  before  leaving  Kentucky,  Ellsworth  was  considerate 
enough  to  offer  some  excellent  advice  to  the  telegraph  opera 
tors  in  Kentucky,  and  yet  some  of  them  characterized  it  as  an 
impertinence.  He  issued  the  following  document,  which  the 
wires  carried  all  over  the  state: 

Headquarters  Telegraph  Department  of  Kentucky,  Confederate  States 
of  America  —  General  Order  No.  i.— When  an  operator  is  positively  in 
formed  that  the  enemy  is  marching  on  his  station  he  will  immediately  proceed 
to  destroy  the  telegraphic  instruments  and  all  material  in  his  charge.  Such 
instances  of  carelessness  as  were  exhibited  on  the  part  of  ^the  operators  at 
Lebanon,  Midway  and  Georgetown  will  be  severely  dealt  with.  By  order  of 

G.  A.  ELLSWORTH, 
Gen'l  Military  Supt.  C.  S.  Telegraphic  Dept. 

But,  shrewd  and  capable  as  was  Ellsworth  in  his  business, 
and  although  he  was  also  a  bright  man  in  conversation,  he  was 
wofully  obtuse,  and  even  stupid,  in  many  matters.  He  was 
the  victim  of  innumerable  practical  jokes,  some  of  them  rather 
cruel.  He  was  a  vain  and  boastful  fellow,  and,  being  well  built 
and  muscular,  posed  as  an  athlete.  He  especially  prided  him 
self  on  his  prowess  as  a  sprinter,  and  never  tired  of  vaunting 
his  fleetness  of  foot.  "The  boys"  of  the  Second  Kentucky 
Cavalry  at  length  resolved  that  he  should  make  an  exhibition 
of  his  capacity  in  this  respect.  They  found  another  fellow, 
who  likewise  claimed  to  be  a  swift  runner,  and  negotiated  a 
match  between  him  and  Ellsworth. 

"Lightning"  at  first  acceded  very  willingly  to  the  proposition. 
But  Jeff  Sterritt,  who  was  the  chief  promoter  of  the  race,  in 
sisted  that  each  contestant  should  carry  a  rider.  Ellsworth 
demurred  to  this,  but  his  objections  were  overborne  by  the 
clamour  of  the  Bluegrass  Kentuckians,  who  declared  that  it  was 
absurd  to  have  a  race  without  jockeys;  and  his  opponent,  who 
was  in  the  joke,  swore  that  he  wouldn't  run  unless  he  had  a 
jockey  up  to  pilot  him.  This  opinion  was  so  unanimous  that 
Ellsworth  was  finally  forced  to  yield.  The  two  men  of  least 
weight  in  the  regiment  were  indicated  as  riders,  and  Jeff  Sterritt 
was  selected  to  ride  Ellsworth.  Sterritt  surreptitiously  buckled 
on  a  pair  of  Texas  spurs,  with  long  and  exceeding  keen  rowels, 
and  when  the  signal  to  start  was  given  plunged  them  into  his 
mount.  Ellsworth  was  naturally  disgusted  at  such  treatment, 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  129 

and  for  awhile  sulked  and  refused  to  go.  But  as  Sterritt 
continued  to  ply  the  spurs,  he  thought  better  of  the  matter  and 
stretched  away  with  an  amazing  burst  of  speed.  He  not  only 
overtook  and  passed  his  antagonist  and  beat  hina  out  many 
lengths,  but  ran  forty  yards  beyond  the  goal  before  he  could  be 
pulled  up.  Yet  for  all  the  rough  fun  his  comrades  used  to  have 
at  his  expense,  old  "Lightning"  was  loved  by  them  for  many 
excellent  and  genuine  traits,  and  when  he  died,  some  three  years 
ago,  he  was  sincerely  lamented. 

One  of  the  best  known  and  most  liked  men  iri  Gen.  John 
H.  Morgan's  command  was  Parson  Wynne.  He  was  not  only 
an  excellent  soldier,  but  a  pious  and  good  man,  and  justly  exer 
cised  a  great  influence  over  his  comrades.  Nevertheless,  with 
all  his  many  good  qualities  he  was  rather  irritable  and  extremely 
stubborn  in  the  maintenance  and  assertion  of  his  opinions.  No 
more  aggressive  and  tenacious  disputant  ever  discussed  the 
resolutions  of  '98,  or  knocked  a  man  down  for  not  properly 
discerning  the  difference  between  secession  and  cooperation. 
His  sincerity  only  made  him  the  more  obstinate. 

On  account  of  his  extensive  acquaintance  in  Kentucky  and 
thorough  knowledge  of  the  country,  as  well  as  his  uncommon 
nerve  and  acuteness,  General  Morgan  frequently  despatched  him 
on  secret  missions  into  the  state  to  obtain  information  not  only 
necessary  for  the  guidance  of  his  own  movements,  but  impor 
tant  for  the  use  of  the  army.  On  these  expeditions  he  was 
generally  accompanied  by  Dan  Ray,  a  gallant  soldier,  quite  as 
nervy  and  intelligent  as  the  parson,  but  the  soul  of  good-humour. 
Dan  never  indulged  in  discussion  except  to  stir  up  the  parson  and 
gratify  his  own  fun-loving  disposition. 

One  day  they  were  riding  together  somewhere  in  southern 
Kentucky,  when  the  conversation  turned  on  a  practice  very 
prevalent  in  the  cavalry,  and,  it  must  be  confessed,  carried  to 
the  fullest  extent  in  Morgan's  command.  They  fell  to  discussing 
the  practice  of  impressing  horses  for  cavalry  use.  Dan  excused, 
and  even  mildly  advocated,  the  practice,  on  the  ground 
that  it  was  a  "military  necessity,"  but  admitted  that  it  was 
sometimes  abused. 

The  parson  condemned  it  in  toto.     He  would  not  admit  that  it 


1 30  REMINISCENCES  OF 

could  be  defended  or  excused  for  any  reason.  He  declared  that 
he  prayed  daily  that  his  comrades  might  be  forgiven  for  this 
sin,  but  intimated  in  strong  terms  that  he  didn't  believe  they 
would  be,  and  concluded  by  denouncing  it  as  a  national  crime 
which  would  bring  about,  if  anything  could,  the  fall  of  the  Con 
federacy.  Finding  that  the  parson  was  warming  up  almost  to 
the  fighting  point,  Ray  prudently  let  the  matter  drop. 

On  the  next  day  the  parson  found  it  necessary  to  have  his 
horse  shod,  and  the  clumsy  smith  pricked  one  hoof  so  badly  that 
in  a  few  hours  the  animal  became  dead  lame.  Under  the  cir 
cumstances  this  was  a  serious  matter,  and  the  parson  and  Dan 
both  grew  anxious  and  apprehensive.  Just  as  they  had  about 
determined  to  retrace  their  steps  to  a  point  where  the  parson 
might  procure  a  remount,  which  would  have  involved  an 
unfortunate  delay,  a  well-to-dolooking  man  came  riding  down  the 
road  on  a  remarkably  fine  horse.  The  sight  of  such  a  horse 
might  well  make  a  cavalry  man  covetous,  and  reduce  any  scruple 
he  might  have  had  to  zero.  The  parson  looked,  longed,  and  let 
go  all  hold  on  his  scruples.  He  felt  it  was  predestined  that  he 
should  have  that  horse. 

He  gracefully  initiated  the  "trade"  he  had  determined  on  by 
saying: 

"That's  a  mighty  likely  horse  you're  riding,  sir  —  a  mighty 
likely  animal." 

"Yes,"  was  the  response,  "he's  a  right  peart  nag." 

"Sound,  too,  ain't  he?     Nothing  the  matter  with  him?" 

"Well,  stranger,  he's  sound  from  his  eyes  to  his  hocks.  Thar 
ain't  a  soft  spot  in  him." 

"This  is  a  good  chunk  of  a  horse,  too,"  said  the  parson,  point 
ing  to  his  own.  "He's  by  Denmark.  His  dam  was  by  Dren- 
non,  out  of  a  Whip  mare.  He  can  go  all  the  gaits  when 
he's  right,  but  a  fool  of  a  blacksmith  pricked  him  this  morning. " 

"Pull  his  shoes  off  and  let  him  stand  in  wet  grass." 

"I  haven't  the  time,  I  am  engaged  on  public  service  and  must 
get  on  rapidly,  so  I  am  compelled  to  ask  you  to  swap  horses. 
You  have  leisure  and  seem  to  be  an  intelligent  man,  and  you  can 
doctor  this  horse. " 

"The  h  —  1  you  say.  Well,  stranger,  you're  the  drunkest  man 
to  hide  it  so  well  I  ever  see." 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  131 

"Don't  use  profane  language  in  my  presence,"  shouted  the 
parson,  "but  help  me  shift  saddles.  You're  getting  much  the 
best  of  the  trade.  There  isn't  such  a  fox-trotter  and  single 
footed  racker  as  my  horse  —  or  rather  your  horse,  for  he's  yours 
now  —  in  Kentucky.  Don't  multiply  words, "  he  continued,  as 
the  other  party  to  the  "swap"  still  feebly  protested,  "but  climb 
down.  Your  horse  there  needs  attention;  take  him  and  attend 
to  him. "  And  the  parson  enforced  obedience  by  the  production 
of  an  army  Colt.  The  trade  was  concluded.  The  parson  mounted 
his  new  steed,  and  the  pair  pushed  on.  After  riding  some  miles 
in  silence,  Ray  soberly  remarked: 

"Parson,  I  have  been  pondering  over  what  you  said  yes 
terday  about  horse-pressing,  and  I've  about  concluded  you  were 
right.  I  am  satisfied  that  it  can't  be  defended,  and " 

"Dan  Ray!"  broke  in  the  parson  quietly,  but  with  significant 
emphasis,  "I  don't  care  to  hear  you  discuss  a  matter  you  can't 
understand.  Your  mind  hasn't  been  trained  to  draw  nice  dis 
tinctions.  That  matter  awhile  back  wasn't  properly  a  case  of 
horse-pressing  at  all.  It  was  a  compulsory  trade,  rendered  nec 
essary  by  the  unsettled  condition  of  the  country  and  the  times, 
and  because  the  laws  regulating  the  making  and  enforcement  of 
contracts  are  rather  silent  just  now.  I  could  demonstrate  this 
without  the  slightest  difficulty  to  any  man  accustomed  to  logical 
discussion;  but  if  you  ever  allude  to  it  again,  I'll  hang  in 
your  wool. " 

We  will  all  agree  that  profanity  is  not  only  an  unprofitable,  but 
a  very  shocking  vice,  and  its  indulgence,  even  under  extreme  prov 
ocation,  should  always  be  censured.  Nevertheless  we  cannot 
help  feeling  that  this  censure  should  be  somewhat  milder  in 
some  cases  than  in  others.  Indeed  we  have  all  known  men  in 
whom  if  we  could  riot  pardon  the  habit  we  have  felt  very  much 
inclined  to  condone  it.  This  is  especially  the  case  with  our  foreign- 
born  citizens,  who  frequently  swear  energetically  without 
meaning  any  harm.  With  them  it  seems  to  be  a  mere  colloquial 
variation,  having  more  of  sound  than  significance,  and  used  in 
speech  as  an  exclamation  point  is  used  in  print.  It  is  said  that 
strangers  in  any  country  pick  up  the  oaths  in  use  among  its  people 
more  readily  than  any  other  part  of  the  language,  irom  which  it 


1 32  REMINISCENCES  OF 

might  be  argued  that  objectionable  as  it  is,  swearing  comes  by 
nature  and  is  common  to  all  humanity. 

Doubtless  many  of  my  Confederate  readers  will  remember 
General  de  Polignac,  a  gallant  and  accomplished  Frenchman, 
who,  during  the  entire  Civil  War,  served  the  South  as  faithfully 
as  any  of  her  native  sons.  He  belonged  to  the  princely  family 
of  that  name,  one  of  the  noblest  and  most  distinguished  in  the 
history  of  France,  and  it  certainly  never  furnished  a  braver  or 
more  creditable  representative.  But,  while  the  general  spoke 
English  fluently,  and,  in  his  unimpassioned  moments,  with 
absolute  propriety,  he  was  addicted,  when  excited,  to  a  multitude 
of  imprecatory  ejaculations.  In  plain  truth,  he  would  "swear 
like  a  trooper. " 

"After  one  or  two  years  of  service  the  soldiers  invented,  or 
adopted,  certain  expressions  and  forms  of  speech  which  sounded 
strange  in  the  ears  of  the  uninitiated.  A  peculiar  slang  of  the 
camp  came  into  vogue  which,  in  many  respects,  largely  super 
seded  the  proper  and  more  decorous  terms.  It  became  the  cus 
tom,  for  instance,  to  designate  a  battalion  or  brigade  as  "an 
outfit,"  a  "layout"  or  a  "shebang." 

The  story  goes  that  on  one  occasion,  when  Polignac,  before 
his  promotion  to  brigadier,  was  commanding  a  regiment  in 
Mouton's  Louisiana  brigade,  and,  during  a  somewhat  pro 
longed  absence  of  General  Mouton,  commanding  the  brigade 
itself,  he  had  an  interview  with  a  soldier  in  which  his  own  pro 
ficiency  in  profanity  and  this  slang  of  the  camp,  just  mentioned, 
both  came  strongly  to  the  front.  A  handsome,  bright-eyed 
Creole  lad  came  to  his  headquarters  one  morning,  and,  duly 
saluting,  said:  "Colonel!  I  have  been  off  on  a  two-weeks'  fur 
lough  and  am  just  back.  I  belong  to  Colonel  Censer's  'layout,' 
but  don't  know  where  it  is.  Will  you  please  tell  me  where  it  is  ? " 

"Colonel  Censer's  what?"  shouted  Polignac,  his  eyes  bulging 
with  amazement. 

"To  Colonel  Censer's  'layout,'  "  repeated  the  boy.  "You 
know  it;  it  belongs  to  your  'shebang.'" 

"Well,  d  —  n  my  eyes  to  ze  deep  blue  h  —  1,"  groaned  Pol 
ignac.  "I  have  been  militaire  all  my  life.  I  was  educate  for 
ze  army.  I  have  hear  of  ze  compagnie,  ze  battalion,  ze  regi 
ment,  ze  brigade,  ze  division  and  ze  army  corps,  but  blank, 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  133 

blank,  blank,  my  soul  to  blank  eef  evair  I  hear  of  ze  'layout' 
or  ze  'shebang'  before. " 

Some  twenty  years  ago  two  French  military  officers  came  to 
this  country,  and  whatever  may  have  been  the  principal  object 
of  their  mission,  they  seemed  chiefly  interested  in  procuring  in 
formation,  as  full  and  detailed  as  possible,  regarding  the  cavalry 
operations  of  our  Civil  War,  and  especially  the  character  of 
service  performed  by  Morgan  and  Forrest.  As  they  were  them 
selves  cavalry  men,  this  interest  in  their  own  particular  branch 
of  the  service  was  quite  natural.  They  were  evidently  thoroughly 
taught  in  their  profession,  and  men  of  experience,  as  well  as  of 
more  than  ordinary  capacity.  The  "senior  of  the  two  in  rank  as 
well  as  years,  Colonel  de  Kerbrecht,  had  long  served  in  the 
Chasseurs  D'Afrique,  the  most  celebrated  cavalry  corps  in  the 
French  army,  and  the  other,  Captain  de  la  Cher,  was  an  officer 
of  the  Third  Dragoons,  and  had  served  on  the  staff  of  Marshal 
Bazaine.  Among  those  from  whom  they  sought  the  infor 
mation  they  desired  was  myself,  and  they  plied  me  with  eager 
and  intelligent  questions  concerning  my  experiences  under  Gen 
eral  Morgan.  They  wanted  to  know  all  about  the  organization 
and  armament  of  his  command;  about  the  nature  of  its  drill 
and  discipline;  about  Morgan's  methods  of  marching,  scouting, 
picketing  and  fighting,  and  above  all  were  profoundly  interested 
in  the  strategy  and  conduct  of  the  raid.  They  were  thoroughly 
convinced  that  the  new  methods  and  uses  of  cavalry  would  super 
sede  the  old,  and  that  the  sabre  as  the  cavalry  arm  par  excellence 
must  give  way  to  the  rifle  and  revolver.  They  expressed  the 
hope  that  a  cavalry  corps,  modelled  on  those  commanded 
by  Morgan  and  Forrest,  and  adapted  to  just  such  work  as 
they  performed,  would  be  organized  for  the  French  army. 

After  I  had  answered  categorically  their  queries  regarding 
Morgan's  service,  they  asked  me  to  tell  them  something  about 
Forrest.  I  said  that  my  knowledge  of  what  he  had  done  was  not 
personal  and  direct,  but  I  had  gotten  it  at  second-hand;  never 
theless,  I  thought  I  might  furnish  them  a  little  information  about 
General  Forrest's  campaigns  of  the  kind  they  wished.  I  then 
proceeded  to  give  them  an  account,  as  well  as  I  could,  of  For 
rest's  famous  battle  with  Sturgess  at  Tishomingo  Creek.  I 
did  not  seek  to  embellish  the  real  story  —  that  could  scarcely 


REMINISCENCES  OF 

be  done  —  but  I  certainly  tried  to  do  it  justice.  I  should  mention 
the  fact  just  here,  that  Colonel  Kerbrecht  did  not  speak  or  under 
stand  English.  De  la  Cher  spoke  it  quite  fluently;  and  inasmuch 
as  the  kind  of  French  I  speak  is  for  some  reason  altogether  unin 
telligible  to  a  Frenchman,  De  la  Cher  would  translate  my 
narrative,  as  I  proceeded,  to  his  countryman. 

As  I  have  said,  I  tried  justly  to  describe  that  remarkable  com 
bat,  and  how  Forrest,  with  vastly  inferior  numbers,  came  down 
like  a  cyclone  on  his  enemy  and  annihilated  him.  At  any  rate, 
there  was  that  in  the  story  which  appealed  to  the  gallant  French 
men.  When  I  finished,  the  old  chasseur  rose  to  his  feet,  stretched 
both  arms  above  his  head,  and  with,  perhaps,  the  only  two 
words  of  our  language  that  he  knew,  testified  to  the  prowess  of 
Bedford  Forrest: 

"Sapristi,"  he  exclaimed,  "G  —  d  d  —  n!" 

In  the  immediate  ante-bellum  period  and  during  the  war,  no 
man,  perhaps,  not  in  public  station,  was  more  widely  known  in 
Kentucky  and  throughout  the  South  than  Maj.  John  S.  Throck- 
morton.  He  was  much  liked  and  respected,  but  especially 
attracted  attention  and  was  the  subject  of  frequent  comment 
because  of  his  eccentricities.  Absolutely  frank,  truthful  and  hon- 
ourable,he  had  the  confidence  of  all  who  knew  him;  warm-hearted 
and  ever  ready  to  do  a  kindly  or  generous  act,  he  had  many  friends; 
but  his  irascible  temper,  the  readiness  with  which  he  became 
irritated  upon  the  slightest  and  sometimes  upon  no  apparent, 
provocation,  almost  exceeded  belief.  He  was  a  handsome  man, 
powerfully  and  gracefully  formed,  and  in  manner,  when  not 
angered  or  excited,  polite  and  pleasant.  Some  of  his  younger 
acquaintances  would  occasionally,  in  a  spirit  of  mischief,  take 
advantage  of  this  infirmity  and  kindle  his  quick,  inflammable 
disposition,  which  it  was  easy  to  do,  by  some  remark  that,  how 
ever  harmless  in  itself,  aroused  an  unpleasant  memory,  or  which 
he  might  deem  irrelevant.  But  it  behooved  the  man  trying  such 
an  experiment  to  assume  the  most  innocent  tone  and  demeanour 
and  avoid  all  appearance  of  intentional  offence;  for  if  he  believed 
that  offence  was  intended,  he  was  quite  sure  to  express  resent 
ment,  not  merely  in  words,  but  Jn  very  strenuous  fashion. 

Major  Throckmorton  —  I  give  him  the  title  he  subsequently 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  135 

acquired  —  was  among  those  who  first  went  South  from  Ken 
tucky  to  escape  arrest  because  of  avowed  Southern  sympathies, 
and  to  follow  the  fortunes  of  the  Confederacy.  He  soon  after 
became  attached  to  the  "Provisional  Government  of  Kentucky," 
organized  at  Russellville  on  November  13,  1861,  by  the  con 
vention  which  passed  resolutions  declaring  that  Kentucky  would 
withdraw  from  the  Union  and  seek  admission  into  the  Confed 
eracy.  The  gentlemen  who  took  this  action  were  not  strong 
enough  to  maintain  it  upon  the  territory  of  their  own  state,  so 
that,  with  the  officials  of  the  provisional  government,  they  were, 
with  few  exceptions,  compelled  to  join  the  exodus  southward  of 
which  I  have  just  spoken.  I  do  not  remember  in  what  capacity 
Throckmorton  served  this  state  government,  but  a  few  months  later 
—  after  the  battle  of  Shiloh,  where  the  heroic  pro  visional  governor, 
George  W.  Johnson,  fell  fighting  in  the  ranks  of  one  of  the  Kentucky 
regiments  —  he  was  commissioned  as  major  in  the  Confederate 
army  and  assigned  to  duty  in  the  commissary  department. 

I  shall  never  forget  my  first  meeting  with  him  after  he  had 
"come  South."  It  was  just  after  his  connection  with  the 
provisional  government.  I  met  him  on  the  road  in  charge  of 
the  provisional  wagon  train;  he  was  looking  out,  I  believe,  for 
a  suitable  site  where  the  government  might  encamp.  I  had  been 
on  a  scout  with  a  small  party  and  was  returning  to  the  vicinity 
of  Bowling  Green  when  I  encountered  him.  I  had  known  him 
intimately  and  pleasantly  for  several  years,  was  very  glad  to 
see  him,  and  gave  him  a  hearty  greeting  which  he  returned  as 
cordially.  Yet  I  had  not  talked  with  him  five  minutes  before  I 
had  quite  innocently  incurred  his  displeasure,  which  he  expressed 
in  his  usual  vigorous  way.  He  was  riding  an  old  brown  horse; 
not  such  a  steed,  in  any  respect,  as  a  Kentuckian  of  his  station 
and  regard  for  handsome  equipment  should  have  bestridden,  and 
peculiarly  noticeable  because  of  an  abnormally  long  and 
pendulous  lower  lip.  I  had  never  seen  such  a  feature  in  any 
specimen  of  the  equine  species.  It  hung  down  several  inches,  dis 
closing  the  animal's  lower  teeth,  and  twitching  in  a  melancholy, 
protesting  sort  of  fashion.  My  attention  was,  of  course, 
attracted  by  such  a  spectacle,  and  I  incautiously  remarked  on  it. 

"John,"  I  said,  "I  never  in  my  life  saw  such  a  lip  as  that 
horse  of  yours  has. " 


136  REMINISCENCES  OF 

He  flared  up  at  once. 

"What  in  the  hades  is  that  to  you,"  he  shouted.  "What  have 
you  got  to  do  with  it?  Am  I  responsible  for  his  lip?  Did  I 
make  it?  Every  blamed  fool  I  meet  has  something  to  say  about 
this  horse's  lip.  I  believe  there  are  more  blamed  fools  in  this 
army  around  Bowling  Green  —  especially  among  the  Kentucky 
troops  —  than  anywhere  else  in  the  world. " 

I  hastened  to  offer  profuse  and  ample  apologies,  but  for  a  time 
unsuccessfully.  He  insisted  that  I  should  not  mention  the  sub 
ject.  "You've  got  too  much  lip  yourself, "  he  said. 

I  finally  placated  him,  and  we  conversed  amicably  for  ten  or 
twelve  minutes,  and  he  then  said  that  he  must  rejoin  his  train, 
and  rode  off.  I  started  in  the  opposite  direction,  but  in  a  few 
seconds  I  heard  him  loudly  call  me.  I  turned  and  saw  that  he 
had  halted  and  faced  about. 

"See  here,"  he  said,  "I've  thought  this  thing  over,  and  have 
come  to  the  conclusion  that  I  ought  to  shoot  the  next  man  who 
alludes  to  this  horse's  lip.  So  you  be  careful  not  to  say  anything 
more  about  it." 

I  assured  him  that  I  would  dismiss  the  matter  entirely  from 
my  mind  and  never  again  refer  to  it. 

Major  Throckmorton  had  rented  a  house  in  Bowling  Green, 
where  he  and  two  of  his  closest  friends  kept  bachelors'  hall,  and 
they  were  living  very  comfortably  indeed.  These  two  gentle 
men,  Messrs.  Oscar  Murray  and  George  Grey,  were  from  Louis 
ville,  as  was  the  major,  and  had  "refugeed"  thence  for  reasons 
similar  to  those  which  had  induced  his  departure.  They  were 
liberal  and  hospitable  in  their  housekeeping,  and  were,  of  course, 
often  visited  by  their  Kentucky  friends. 

It  happened  that  on  Thanksgiving  Day  of  that  year  General, 
then  Captain  Morgan,  and  myself  had  ridden  early  in  the  morn 
ing  a  considerable  distance  from  our  camp  on  some  errand,  and 
returning  about  noon  and  finding  ourselves  in  the  vicinity  of  the 
major's  quarters,  it  occurred  to  us  that  we  could  not  do  better 
than  call  on  him,  feeling  sure  that  our  friends  would  have  on 
that  day  an  unusually  good  dinner. 

I  should  explain  that,  while  the  sincerest  friendship  existed 
between  Murray  and  Throckmorton,  which  had  begun  when 
they  were  boys  and  continued  throughout  their  lives,  they  would 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  137 

often  engage  in  hot  debates  and  "fall  out,"  that  is  to  say,  the 
major  would  fall  out  with  Murray.  These  quarrels  were  never 
serious;  but  sometimes  they  would  not  speak  to  each  other  for 
a  week  or  more.  Then  they  would  become  reconciled  and  their 
relations  would  be  perfectly  harmonious  again.  We  were  not 
aware  of  it,  of  course,  but  our  visit  occurred  while  one  of  these 
domestic  "differences"  was  pending. 

After  joining  our  hosts  in  a  toddy  brewed  of  excellent  whiskey, 
we  sat  down  to  a  table  bountifully  spread.  A  large,  beautifully 
roasted  turkey  was  in  front  of  Major  Throckmorton,  and  Murray 
was  prepared  to  carve  and  dispense  slices  of  an  excellent  ham. 

"Captain  Morgan,"  said  the  major,  "will  you  have  some  of 
this  turkey?" 

Captain  Morgan  expressed  a  perfect  willingness  to  accept  some. 

"Lieutenant  Duke,"  he  said,  "will  you  take  some?" 

I  answered  promptly  "yes."  The  same  question  was  asked  of 
Mr.  Grey,  with  the  same  result.  Then  the  major  looked  up 
solemnly  at  the  ceiling  and  remarked  in  a  courteous  but  chilly 
tone:  "If  any  one  else  at  this  table  wants  turkey,  he  can  send  up 
his  plate,"  whereupon  Mr.  Murray's  plate  was  forwarded. 
Mr.  Murray  then  proceeded  to  distribute  the  ham  in  the  same 
fashion,  asking  each  one,  except  the  major,  if  he  wished  a  slice  of 
it,  concluding  by  addressing  the  ceiling  with  the  same  formula; 
and  the  major's  plate  was  "sent"  for  ham. 

Oscar  Murray,  although  then  nearly  forty-five  years  of  age, 
shortly  afterward  enlisted  as  a  private  in  Morgan's  squadron  of 
cavalry,  and  served  gallantly  to  the  close  of  the  war,  sustaining 
all  the  toils  and  hardships  of  camp  and  raid  as  cheerfully  as  his 
younger  and  more  vigorous  comrades. 

Major  Throckmorton  made  an  excellent  commissary  of  sub 
sistence,  when  commissioned  and  assigned  to  that  duty,  although 
he  seasoned  the  rations  he  issued  with  much  spicy  language.  A 
report  was  current  at  one  time  that  General  Bragg  had  threatened 
to  have  him  shot  for  some  peculiarly  independent  action  — 
which  the  fierce  old  martinet  chose  to  term  insubordination  —  but 
I  think  it  was  merely  a  "camp  rumour." 

He  lived  for  several  years  after  the  close  of  the  war,  becoming 
more  eccentric  in  temper  than  ever,  but  retaining  the  respect  and 
esteem  of  his  friends  to  the  last. 


CHAPTER  VII 

ONE  of  the  most  remarkable  men  who  served  in  the 
Confederate  army  was  Gen.  Roger  W.  Hanson,  of  Ken 
tucky.  No  officer  was  more  liked  and  respected  by 
the  Kentucky  soldiers,  or  possessed  more  thoroughly  the  con 
fidence  of  his  superiors  in  command.  His  career  previous  to 
the  war  had  been  an  exceedingly  interesting,  indeed,  in  some 
ways,  an  erratic  one;  but  in  the  wildest  escapades  of  his  hot  and 
heady  youth  he  retained  the  regard  of  his  people,  and  received 
that  indulgence  which  even  the  staid  citizen  extends  such  offences 
when  he  knows  the  trespasser  to  be  honourable  and  high-minded. 
When  a  very  young  man  he  served  with  distinction  in  the  Mexi 
can  War  as  first  lieutenant  in  the  company  of  Capt.  John  S. 
Williams.  Williams  also  became  a  brigadier-general  in  the 
Confederate  service,  and  was  an  active  and  excellent  officer. 

When  Hanson  returned  from  Mexico  he  soon  took  a  leading 
position  at  the  bar  of  central  Kentucky,  and  became  quite  famous, 
if  not  successful,  as  a  politician  in  that  region.  His  early  man 
hood  had  been  so  much  occupied  with  more  attractive  pursuits, 
that  he  had  not  profited,  as  he  might  have  done,  by  the  educa 
tional  advantages  offered  him;  but  his  mind,  although  unused  to 
the  discipline  of  study,  mastered  all  that  it  grappled  with. 
Friends  and  opponents  agreed  in  pronouncing  him  one  of  the 
most  effective  speakers  in  the  state.  While  his  reading  of  law 
was  not  extensive,  he  seemed  intuitively  to  comprehend  the 
principles  of  the  science.  His  vigorous  native  intellect  and  acute 
perception,  made  him  formidable  even  when  lacking  professional 
information.  His  ideas  were  always  clearly  defined  and  his 
mind  was  never  in  a  mist.  He  had  an  extraordinary  insight  into 
character,  and  a  most  remarkable  faculty  of  accurate  observa 
tion  and  life-like  reproduction,  especially  of  ludicrous  traits  and 
incidents.  His  command  of  humorous,  graphic,  and  forcible 
expression  was  almost  unequalled.  Hanson  had  many  noble 

138 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  139 

traits  of  character,  was  brave,  candid,  and  truthful,  and  sincerely 
scorned  dissimulation  or  pretense  of  any  kind. 

His  personal  appearance  was  singular  and  striking.  In 
stature,  below  the  medium  height,  his  form  was  strong  and 
massive  but  ungraceful.  His  keen  gray  eyes  and  florid 
complexion  indicated  a  sanguine  temperament,  and  every  feature 
of  his  face  was  expressive  of  energy  and  determination.  A 
wound  received  in  a  duel  had  shortened  one  leg,  giving  him  a 
peculiar  jerky  gait. 

Shortly  after  the  close  of  the  Mexican  War,  Hanson  ran  for 
the  legislature  against  his  former  comrade  and  commander, 
Williams.  Both  were  popular,  and  Williams  was  nearly  Hanson's 
equal  as  a  stump  speaker.  Aware  that  the  support  given  either 
because  of  "military  record"  would  be  chiefly  accorded  the  supe 
rior  in  rank,  Hanson  sought  rather  to  depreciate  than  exalt  the 
merit  in  that  regard  that  each  might  have  justly  claimed;  and 
especially  ridiculed  the  sobriquet  of  Cerro  Gordo,  which  had  been 
conferred  on  Williams  because  of  his  conduct  in  the  battle  of 
that  name.  Williams,  on  the  other  hand,  discussed  such 
topics  with  the  serious  tone  of  one  who  expected  them  to 
win  votes. 

Williams  asserted  that  he  had  captured  two  six-pounder 
brass  guns  at  Cerro  Gordo.  Hanson  denied  that  the  pieces 
had  been  taken  in  battle,  and  declared  that  Williams,  assisted 
by  a  big  Irishman,  had  fished  them  out  of  a  bayou,  into  which 
they  had  been  thrown  by  the  Mexicans  on  their  retreat.  He 
gave  an  extremely  picturesque  account  of  how  Williams  "dived" 
for  them.  He  also  furnished  a  description  of  the  charge  up  the 
hill  on  the  enemy's  breastworks,  which  differed  in  toto  from  that 
given  by  Williams. 

"Fellow-citizens,"  he  said,  with  his  hands  upon  his  hips  and 
displaying  his  rotund  and  bulky  figure  to  the  best  advantage, 
"inasmuch  as  I  have  never  been  active  and  fleet  of  foot,  I  was 
the  last  man  to  reach  the  top  of  the  hill  in  that  charge  —  except 
my  captain.  But  when  we  fell  back  I  was  the  first  man  — 
except  Captain  Williams  —  to  get  back  to  the  spot  whence  we 
started.  You  will  scarcely  believe  it,  but  before  I  ran  down  that 
hill  I  was  six  feet  three  inches  in  height,  and  as  slender  as  an 
eagle's  talon  in  the  waist;  yet,  in  striving  to  keep  up  with  my 


140  REMINISCENCES  OF 

captain,  I  jumped  so  far  and  lit  so  hard  that  I  was  stove  up 
into  the  figure  that  you  now  see." 

One  incident  of  this  canvass  was  told  me  by  General  Williams 
himself,  and  I  was  not  more  amused  by  the  story  than  by  the 
grave  manner  with  which  the  general  related  it.  Although 
many  years  had  elapsed,  his  resentment  had  evidently  not  cooled. 
"Hanson,"  he  said,  "had  been  treating  me  in  anything  but  a 
respectable  fashion  during  the  entire  canvass,  and  had  used 
language  which  was  very  irritating,  but  which  I  permitted  to 
pass  unnoticed,  as  I  did  not  think  it  dignified  to  give  way  to  anger. 
My  friends,  however,  finally  told  me  that  I  must  resent  it; 
that  further  submission  to  such  affronts  would  injure  me.  So  I 
made  up  my  mind  to  summarily  stop  it  upon  the  first  occasion. 
But,  knowing  that  Hanson  was  always  ready  to  fight,  and  would 
probably  resort  to  violent  measures  when  I  denounced  him,  I 
went  to  our  next  meeting  well  armed.  This  debate  was  to  take 
place  at  a  school-house  standing  in  a  small  bluegrass  pasture  and 
on  a  gentle  hill,  at  the  foot  of  which  was  a  fine  spring  of  water. 
The  house  was  crowded  and  people  were  congregated  about  the 
doors  and  windows  to  hear  the  speeches.  I  spoke  first,  and, 
informing  the  audience  that  I  would  no  longer  submit  to  Mr. 
Hanson's  offensive  language  and  manner,  proceeded  to  give  him 
a  merciless  tongue-lashing. 

"Hanson  at  first  seemed  surprised  and  quite  indignant.  I 
thought,  indeed,  that  he  and  his  friends,  immediately  about 
him,  would  then  and  there  force  a  personal  encounter  on  me  and 
those  who  were  prepared  to  sustain  me.  He  did  not  do  so,  how 
ever,  but  in  a  few  minutes  left  the  house,  beckoning  to  his  espe 
cial  coterie  to  follow  him.  I  saw  them  go  toward  the  spring,  and 
believed  that  they  meant  to  take  a  drink  all  around,  get  their 
weapons  ready  and  return  for  business.  In  a  short  time  they  did 
return;  but  to  my  intense  astonishment  showed  no  disposi 
tion  to  attack  me,  although  I  had  not  concluded  my  denuncia 
tion.  Hanson,  himself,  looked  as  mild  and  demure  as  a  reformed 
gambler,  and  the  others  were  trying  to  do  the  same.  I  could  not 
imagine  what  he  was  after. 

"When  I  concluded,  he  took  the  stand,  and  there  was  another 
surprise  for  me.  He  began  to  speak  in  a  quiet,  deprecatory  way, 
utterly  unlike  his  usual  style,  and  his  voice  seemed  to  tremble 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  141 

with  emotion.  'Fellow-citizens,'  he  said,  'the  words  and  the 
conduct  of  Captain  Williams  to-day  have  occasioned  me  great 
pain,  and,  also,  no  little  amazement.  He  knows  that,  notwith 
standing  our  political  differences  and  rivalry,  I  feel  for  him  the 
strongest  and  warmest  personal  friendship,  as  well  as  that  sort 
of  regard  which  should  always  obtain  between  men  who  have 
been  comrades  in  arms.  It  is  true  that  I  have  sometimes  in 
dulged  in  little,  harmless  pleasantries,  some  trivial  jocularity 
at  his  expense,  but  never  to  the  extent,  I  trust,  of 
seeming  even  to  derogate  from  the  high  respect  in  which 
I  hold  him.'" 

At  this  point  the  general  interrupted  his  narrative  to  exclaim : 
"Did  you  ever  hear  of  such  hypocrisy?  After  deluging  me  with 
his  blackguardly  ridicule  throughout  the  entire  preceding  can 
vass,  to  speak  of  it  as  'trivial  jocularity'?" 

Then  he  went  on  with  Hanson's  speech ! 

"  'But,  fellow-citizens,  while  I  did  not  at  first  comprehend  the 
meaning  of  this  strange  conduct,  the  true  reason  for  it,  after  a 
little  reflection,  is  apparent  to  me.  The  arrogant  confidence 
with  which  Captain  Williams  entered  this  canvass  has  been  rudely 
shaken.  He  has  discovered  that  his  popularity  is  not  so  great 
and  his  success  not  so  sure  as  he  had  fondly  supposed.  He  has 
discovered  that  he  is  every  day  losing  friends  upon  whose  support 
he  had  relied.  Indeed,  he  sees  defeat  staring  him  in  the  face, 
and  in  his  fury  and  disappointment  at  such  impending  humilia 
tion,  he  is  willing  to  thrust  a  quarrel  upon  me,  and,  if  necessary, 
slay  me.  "Yes,"  he  said,  and  pretended  to  snivel  and  wipe  his 
eyes;  'yes,  fellow-citizens,  in  his  desperation,  my  old  commander 
even  seeks  my  life.  But  greatly  as  his  conduct  has  distressed 
me,  I  must,  in  justice  to  myself,  call  your  attention  to  one  im 
pression,  industriously  circulated  to  my  prejudice,  which  it 
completely  dissipates.  It  has  been  asserted  that  my  opponent 
represents  the  law  and  order,  moral,  and  God-fearing  people  of 
this  community,  while  I,  on  the  contrary,  am  the  candidate 
of  the  less  respectable  and  more  reckless  element.'  With  that," 
said  Williams,  "he  pulled  off  his  coat  and  vest  and  pranced 
around  the  platform  to  show  that  he  was  unarmed.  He  even 
opened  his  shirt  front  and  turned  his  breeches  pockets  wrong 
side  out,  and  demanded  that  a  committee  consisting  of  my  friends 


i42  REMINISCENCES  OF 

should  search  him.  'And  now,'  he  thundered,  'I  challenge  my 
opponent  to  follow  my  example.' 

"Why,  blank  it,"  said  the  general,  "I  couldn't  afford  to  do 
that.  Two  big  pistols  and  a  bowie-knife  as  long  as  a  scythe  blade 
were  buckled  around  me,  and  I  couldn't"  call  his  raise.  Hanson 
guessed,"  he  continued,  "so  soon  as  I  began  to  roast  him  that 
I  was  armed.  When  he  went  to  the  spring  he  probably  divested 
himself  of  his  own  weapons  —  the  unreliable  wretch  —  and 
caught  me  in  a  trap  that  I  had  really  set  myself."  It  was  a  hot 
and  close  contest.  Williams  won  by  a  majority  of  only  six  votes. 

Hanson  succeeded  Gen.  John  C.  Breckinridge  in  command  of 
the  Kentucky  infantry,  or  "Orphan"  brigade,  as  it  was  popularly 
designated.  He  was,  in  all  respects,  an  exceptionally  fine  officer, 
and  was  a  strict  and  very  careful  disciplinarian,  although  some 
what  eccentric  in  his  methods.  He  used  to  visit  the  guard 
house  —  which  he  generally  kept  pretty  full  of  offenders  —  nearly 
every  morning,  and  rigidly  catechize  the  inmates,  much  to  their 
discomfiture,  concerning  their  delinquencies.  Once,  believing 
that  many  complaints  of  illness  were  subterfuges  on  the  part  of 
lazy  fellows  to  escape  performance  of  duty,  he  issued  an 
order  that  "there  should  be  only  two  sick  men  at  one  time  in 
each  company." 

He  was  mortally  wounded  in  the  battle  of  Murfreesboro, 
gallantly  leading  his  brigade. 

A  decidedly  interesting  figure  in  Kentucky  history,  in  his 
day  and  generation,  although  neither  very  prominent  nor 
influential,  was  Gen.  Humphrey  Marshall,  second  of  that  name 
in  the  annals  of  the  commonwealth. 

It  may  sound  paradoxical,  yet  it  may  justly  be  said,  I  think, 
that,  while  he  typified  the  traits  of  a  large  number  of  his  country 
men,  he  resembled  no  other  individual.  Much  like  the  average 
man  in  the  ordinary  emotions  of  humantity,  he  was,  in  his 
methods  of  manifesting  them  and  in  the  impression  he  produced 
on  other  people,  utterly  unlike  any  one  else.  Nor  was  it  so 
much  because  he  was  eccentric,  as  because,  so  to  speak,  he  was 
"in  a  class  by  himself."  Chief  Justice  Robertson  might  have 
described  him  as  "Sui  generis  and  altogether  anomalous."  He 
recalled  the  image  of  Falstaff  in  that  worthy's  best  vein,  not 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  143 

only  because  of  his  obesity  and  inclination  to  self-indulgence, 
his  keen  acumen  and  shrewd  humour,  his  manner  of  mingled 
swagger  and  candour,  but  also  in  his  singular  originality  of  thought 
and  speech:  nor  was  the  fat,  jolly  knight  of  the  Cheapside  taverns 
more  witty  either  in  criticism  of  what  others  might  do,  or  in 
excuse  of  slack  performance  on  his  own  part. 

Intellectually  he  was  a  superior,  indeed,  in  many  respects, 
a  man  of  unusual  ability.  He  was  a  ripe  and  astute  lawyer 
and  a  politician  of  broad  views  and  extensive  information,  and 
was  surpassed  in  forensic  capacity  by  few  of  his  contemporaries. 
He  ranked  high  at  the  Kentucky  bar,  and  was  esteemed  one 
of  the  ablest  debaters  in  the  lower  house  of  congress,  in  which 
body  he  served  four  terms.  He  also  acquitted  himself  credit 
ably  as  Minister  to  China  during  Mr.  Fillmore's  administration. 

A  graduate  of  West  Point,  he  was  no  doubt  in  his  early  life 
a  good  soldier;  at  any  rate,  as  colonel  of  a  cavalry  regiment 
in  the  Mexican  War,  he  earned  that  reputation.  As  brigadier- 
general  in  the  Confederate  army  he  attained  no  special  distinc 
tion,  nor  was  he  very  actively  employed.  This  was  perhaps 
due,  more  than  anything  else, ,  to  physical  incapacity.  He  was 
enormously  corpulent,  weighing  nearly  three  hundred  pounds, 
and  consequently  unfitted  for  active  command  in  the  field, 
especially  in  a  mountainous  region  like  eastern  Kentucky,  where 
he  was  stationed  during  the  entire  period  of  his  service.  He 
ate  frequent  and  prodigious  meals,  although  quite  temperate 
in  the  use  of  liquor;  and  this  inordinate  consumption  of  food 
was  of  itself  sufficient  to  incapacitate  him  for  the  duties  and 
efforts  of  an  arduous  campaign.  It  also  induced  a  curious 
condition  of  mind  or  body  —  a  peculiar  something  which  would 
frequently  and  suddenly  assail  him,  and  which  he  seemed  unable 
to  resist.  He  would  fall  asleep  while  in  the  midst  of  a  conversa 
tion,  and  sometimes  when  on  his  feet.  On  such  occasions,  how 
ever,  he  would  retain  an  erect  position,  although  with  eyes 
closed,  snoring  audibly,  and  exhibiting  every  evidence  of  slumber 
for  several  minutes.  Then  awakening  and  appearing  to  be 
conscious  of  all  that  had  transpired  during  his  brief  sleep,  he 
would  resume  the  subject  he  had  been  discussing  at  the  moment 
the  drowsy  god  overcame  him,  and  even  answer  remarks 
addressed  him  while  apparently  asleep. 


i44  REMINISCENCES  OF 

An  amusing  instance  is  related  of  how  President  Davis  took 
advantage  of  this  peculiarity  of  General  Marshall  to  escape,  mak 
ing  what  might  have  proven  an  unpleasant  if  not  embarrassing 
avowal.  Mr.  Davis  had  removed  him  from  command  of  the 
Department  of  Eastern  Kentucky,  without  stating  any  particular 
reason  for  so  doing;  whereupon  the  general  betook  himself 
post-haste  to  Richmond,  to  ask  an  explanation  of  such  action, 
and  obtain,  if  possible,  a  revocation  of  the  order  and  reinstate 
ment  in  his  former  command.  Mr.  Davis  knew  him  quite  well 
and  liked  him,  as  indeed  did  almost  every  one  who  knew  him. 

Marshall  repaired  to  the  executive  office,  requested  an  inter 
view,  which  was  immediately  granted,  and  proceeded  to  state 
his  case,  trusting  that  he  would  speedily  convince  the  President 
that  his  removal  had  been  a  grave  mistake.  That  he  might 
have  documentary  proof  to  sustain  his  contention  that  his 
military  administration  had  been  without  fault,  he  brought  his 
order  book  along  with  him;  and  read  numerous  letters  and  orders 
therefrom  in  the  course  of  his  argument.  Mr.  Davis  was  very 
busy,  but  feeling  constrained  to  treat  his  visitor  courteously, 
listened  with  as  much  patience  as  he  could  muster. 

Finally  becoming  interested  in  some  letter  Marshall  had  read, 
Mr.  Davis  requested  permission  to  read  it  over  himself,  and  took 
the  book  for  that  purpose.  When  he  had  finished  reading  and 
was  prepared  to  return  the  book,  he  discovered  that  Marshall, 
who  was  occupying  an  extremely  comfortable  chair  —  was  fast 
asleep.  Mr.  Davis  was  careful  not  to  awaken  him,  but  resumed 
his  own  work. 

After  sleeping  fifteen  or  twenty  minutes  Marshall  roused  up 
and  began  again  with  his  statement.  But  the  President  now 
knew  how  to  handle  him,  and  in  the  course  of  a  few  minutes 
again  asked  leave  to  look  at  the  book.  He  had  scarcely  gotten 
it  into  his  hands  before  Marshall  was  in  the  Land  of  Nod 
once  more. 

It  is  said  that  this  programme  was  pursued  for  two  or  three 
days,  until  Marshall,  despairing  of  finishing  his  argument, 
ceased  all  efforts  to  do  so,  and  the  President  was  spared  the 
necessity  of  making  a  disagreeable  explanation. 

To  Gen.  William  Preston,  who  was  one  of  his  warmest  friends, 
Marshall's  peculiarities  furnished  inexhaustible  amusement. 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  145 

Preston  never  wearied  of  describing  a  visit  he  once  made  him 
at  his  headquarters  in  the  Kentucky  mountains.  Preston  had 
great  difficulty  in  getting  to  Marshall's  camp,  which  was  pitched 
in  a  very  out  of  the  way  place.  Marshall  was  at  that  time  very 
apprehensive  of  being  superseded,  and  was  constantly  expecting 
that  some  officer  of  superior  rank  would  be  sent  to  take  command 
over  him.  So  when  Preston  asked  why  he  had  posted  his  troops 
in  a  spot  so  much  out  of  the  line  of  usual  travel,  he  answered 
that  it  was  "for  strategic  reasons." 

"Why,"  said  Preston,  "are  you  so  much  afraid  of  the  Yankees 
as  that?" 

"  It  isn't  the  Yankees  I'm  trying  to  avoid,"  replied  Marshall. 
"I'm  dodging  Confederate  major-generals." 

Preston  subsequently  expressed  surprise  that  Marshall  wished 
to  remain  anywhere  in  the  mountains. 

"You  know,"  he  said,  "that  these  people  here  are  inveterate 
Union  men  and  very  wild  and  savage,  and  much  given  to  shoot 
ing  from  ambush  at  those  who  don't  agree  with  them  in  politics. 
Of  course,  they  will  wish  to  shoot  you;  and  they  will  be  apt 
to  recognize  you,  and  cannot  easily  miss  you,  on  account  of  your 
unusual  size." 

Marshall  looked  very  grave  and  seemed  much  troubled  for  a 
while  after  Preston  had  expressed  this  opinion.  Finally,  how 
ever,  his  face  lighted  up,  and  he  said,  with  a  sly  twinkle  of  the 
eye:  "Preston,  I  know  how  to  fool  these  bushwhackers  and 
protect  myself." 

"How  will  you  do  it?"  inquired  Preston.  "I'll  surround  my 
self  with  fat  staff  officers,"  replied  the  corpulent  chieftain,  per- 
lectly  willing  to  sacrifice  his  entire  staff  in  obedience  to  the  first 
law  of  nature. 

With  all  of  his  strong  sense  and  somewhat  caustic  humour, 
a  certain  simplicity  characterized,  at  times,  his  utterances,  which 
was  extremely  entertaining.  He  was  a  devout  believer  in  spirit 
ual  manifestations,  and  a  frequent  attendant  of  the  seances  where 
such  believers  met  and  indulged  their  inclination  for  the  marvel 
lous.  He  was  generally  accompanied  on  such  occasions  by  a 
friend,  himself  an  excellent  lawyer  and  very  nearly  Marshall's 
equal  intellectually,  and  quite  as  devout  a  spiritualist.  This 
gentleman  had  a  voice  which,  naturally  about  as  devoid  of  melody 


146  REMINISCENCES  OF 

as  a  voice  could  well  be,  had  been  injured  rather  than  improved 
by  cultivation. 

Nevertheless,  when  the  efforts  of  the  medium  to  invoke  any 
expression  or  recognition  from  the  invisible  visitants  supposed 
to  be  hovering  in  the  vicinity,  failed  of  effect,  he  would  sing; 
fondly  supposing  that  the  spirits  could  be  attracted  by  music 
of  the  right  sort.  He  knew  only  two  songs,  and  sang  both  to 
much  the  same  air.  It  was  his  theory  that  good  and  pious 
spirits  were  summoned  when  he  gave  out,  "Am  I  a  Soldier  of 
the  Cross,"  and  that  if  there  were  any  disreputable  spirits 
around,  "Shinbone  Alley"  would  fetch  them. 

One  night,  after  he  had  repeated  each  song  several  times, 
there  was  a  full  and  sufficient  response  and  a  most  candid 
communication  was  received.  Whereupon  General  Marshall 
remarked,  sotto  voce,  to  the  man  sitting  next  him  in  the  circle : 
"The  spirits  seem  to  like  Tom's  singing.  That  would  indicate 
that  however  intelligent  and  accomplished  they  may  be  in  other 
respects,  they  are  d  —  d  poor  judges  of  vocalism." 

On  another  occasion,  having  dropped  some  remark  which, 
he  was  gravely  assured,  the  spirits  would  deem  offensive,  he 
formally  and  seriously  apologized  to  "all  spirits  that  might  be 
present";  and  declared  that  he  wouldn't  wound  the  feelings  of 
any  respectable  spirit  for  the  world. 

It  is  to  be  regretted  that  no  spoken  or  written  production 
of  Humphrey  Marshall  has  been  preserved;  but  he  was  indolent, 
averse  to  systematic  labour,  and  utterly  careless  about  such 
record;  and  his  memory  will  survive  only  in  tradition. 

The  memory  of  George  W.  Johnson,  the  first  provisional 
governor  of  Kentucky,  should  be  preserved  and  revered  by  all 
those  who  sympathized  with  the  cause  for  which  he  died,  and  all 
who  honour  the  most  exalted  type  of  Southern  manhood.  While 
his  connection  with  the  fortunes  of  the  Confederacy  was  brief, 
and  not  of  such  nature  as  to  attract  especial  historic  mention, 
it  was  to  those  who  knew  the  man,  the  nobility  of  his  character, 
and  the  purity  and  sincerity  of  his  motives  —  who  knew  also 
the  circumstances  under  which  it  was  formed  —  exceedingly 
interesting,  rendered  more  so  by  its  early  and  tragic  conclusion. 

He   was   a   native   of   Scott  County,   Ky.,   and   one  of  the 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  147 

most  popular  representatives  of  a  large  and  influential  family 
of  his  own  name.  He  was  well  known  not  only  in  the  immediate 
community  in  which  he  resided,  but  throughout  the  state.  A 
true,  brave,  honest  man,  exhibiting  in  his  every  word  and  act 
the  staunchest  and  most  virile  qualities;  a  gentleman  in  the  best 
and  completest  meaning  of  the  term,  cultured,  amiable,  and 
generous,  he  was  universally  liked  and  respected. 

Possessed  of  an  ample  fortune  and  with  leisure  to  indulge 
every  wish  and  taste,  devoted  to  his  wife  and  children,  beloved 
by  his  friends,  susceptible  by  temperament  to  every  rational 
pleasure,  and  ever  desirous  of  making  those  about  him  happy, 
he  was  peculiarly  adapted  to  enjoy  in  the  fullest  measure  that 
.idyllic  life  of  the  wealthy  Virginia  and  Kentucky  planter  of  the 
ante-bellum  days,  and  there  seemed  to  be  something  unusually 
pathetic  in  the  sudden  fate  which  removed  him  from  it. 

Among  the  pleasantest  recollections  of  my  boyhood  are  the 
visits  I  used  to  make  his  home,  one  of  the  most  beautiful  in  the 
finest  part  of  the  lovely  bluegrass  country.  He  was  accustomed 
to  dispense  a  hospitality  rarely  equalled  even  in  that  region 
and  period,  and  his  manly  form,  courteous  manner,  and  kindly 
face  made  it  doubly  attractive. 

The  young  people  were  especially  devoted  to  him.  Among 
other  attractions  to  them  were  two  or  three  unusually  large 
ponds  stocked  with  fish.  To  the  youth  of  the  neighbourhood 
these  were  irresistibly  alluring  and  they  flocked  there  from  all 
the  country  around.  These  sheets  of  water  were  kept  in  good 
condition  by  Mr.  Johnson  more  for  the  pleasure  of  his  youthful 
friends,  whom  he  numbered  by  the  score,  than  for  his  own  use, 
and  they  were  given  the  largest  liberty  to  fish  and  bathe. 

In  this  delightful  home,  surrounded  by  his  friends,  he  lived 
until  nearly  fifty  years  of  age  without  a  trouble  or  care  to  disturb 
the  tranquil  tenor  of  a  life  passed  in  good  and  charitable  work, 
and  then,  at  the  call  of  what  he  esteemed  an  imperative  duty, 
sacrificed  every  personal  interest  in  behalf  of  the  cause  to  which 
he  felt  that  he  owed  every  thing. 

Mr.  Johnson  had,  from  his  earliest  manhood,  taken  an  earnest 
and  active  part  in  politics,  but  while  repeatedly  solicited  to 
accept  office,  had  invariably  declined  to  do  so.  An  ardent 
Democrat,  he  had  been  as  instrumental,  perhaps,  as  any  man  in 


148  REMINISCENCES  OF 

Kentucky,  in  converting  the  state  to  Democracy  after  its  long 
domination  by  the  old  Whig  party.  His  high  character  and 
earnest  purpose,  as  well  as  his  zeal  and  undaunted  determina 
tion,  united  to  more  than  ordinary  ability,  at  once  gained  him 
leadership  in  the  Democratic  ranks,  and  no  one's  influence  was 
more  thoroughly  recognized  in  the  councils  of  the  party,  or 
more  potent. 

He  was  offered  by  acclamation  the  nomination  for  lieutenant- 
governor,  and  also  for  congress,  when  the  election  to  either 
position  would  have  been  assured  and  easy;  but  he  declined 
both  proffers,  not  because  he  was  averse  to  public  service  or 
indifferent  to  popular  favour,  but  because  he  had  no  ambition 
for  official  preferment,  and  wisely  chose  the  quiet  and  comfort 
of  a  private  life  in  which  he  was  as  much  or  more  honoured  than 
he  could  have  been  in  any  public  station.  He  was  an  earnest 
and  effective  speaker,  with  that  sort  of  eloquence  which  attends 
courage,  sincerity,  and  absolute  conviction.  So  lovable  and 
affectionate  was  his  nature  that  even  in  that  fiercely  partisan 
period  many  of  his  political  opponents  were  his  warmest 
personal  friends. 

Although  a  states'  rights  Democrat  of  the  strictest  sect,  he, 
like  the  great  majority  of  Kentuckians,  had  little  sympathy 
with  the  theory  of  secession,  and  listened  with  no  favour  to  any 
such  suggestion  until  it  became  apparent  that  the  long  and 
bitter  controversy  between  the  sections  would  culminate  in 
armed  conflict.  Then  without  hesitation  he  took  the  part  of 
the  South. 

On  August  1 8,  1 86 1,  a  meeting  was  held  in  Scott  County, 
Ky.,  of  a  number  of  prominent  Democrats;  and  after  a 
full  discussion  of  the  situation,  it  was  determined  to  send  com 
missioners  to  Washington  and  to  Richmond,  with  a  view  of 
ascertaining,  if  possible,  whether  the  neutrality  of  Kentucky 
would  be  respected  by  both  sides.  Upon  the  recommendation 
of  this  conference,  Governor  Magoffin  appointed  Frank  K. 
Hunt  and  W.  A.  Dudley,  of  Lexington,  both  Union  men,  as 
commissioners  to  Washington,  and  George  W.  Johnson,  com 
missioner  to  Richmond. 

In  the  letter  which  President  Davis  sent  in  response  to  that 
written  him  by  Governor  Magoffin,  and  borne  by  Mr.  Johnson, 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  149 

appears  the  following  language,  which  certainly  very  logically 
and  properly  summed  up  the  situation: 

The  government  of  the  Confederate  states  has  not  only  respected  most 
scrupulously  the  neutrality  of  Kentucky,  but  has  continued  to  maintain 
the  friendly  relation  of  trade  and  intercourse  which  it  has  suspended  with 
the  people  of  the  United  States  generally.  In  view  of  the  history  of  the  past, 
it  can  scarcely  be  necessary  to  assure  your  excellency  that  the  government 
of  the  Confederate  states  will  continue  to  respect  the  neutrality  of  Kentucky 
so  long  as  her  people  will  maintain  it  themselves.  But  neutrality,  to  be  en 
titled  to  respect,  must  be  strictly  maintained  by  both  parties;  or  if  the  door 
be  opened  on  the  one  side  to  aggression  of  one  of  the  belligerent  parties  upon 
the  other,  it  ought  not  to  be  shut  to  the  assailed  when  they  seek  to  enter  it 
for  purposes  of  self-defence. 

Mr.  Lincoln  replied  that  he  did  not  believe  that  it  was  "the 
popular  wish  of  Kentucky  that  the  Federal  force  already  there 
should  be  removed,  and  with  this  impression  I  must  decline 
to  remove  it." 

This  declaration  made  it  plain  to  men  of  all  shades  of  political 
opinion  in  Kentucky  that  the  occupation  of  the  state  by  Federal 
troops  would  be  continued,  and  that  their  number  would  be 
increased,  not  only  to  completely  suppress  any  sentiment  in  favour 
of  the  Confederacy  and  action  taken  in  that  behalf,  but  in  order 
to  make  Kentucky  a  base  of  military  operations  against  the 
states  farther  south.  In  a  very  short  time  after  this  declaration 
by  Mr.  Lincoln,  numerous  arrests  were  made  of  Kentuckians 
of  known  Southern  sympathies,  or  of  prominent  men  who  ven 
tured  even  to  question  the  legality  of  the  aggressive  acts  com 
mitted  by  the  Union  leaders. 

George  W.  Johnson  was  one  of  the  first  and  boldest  to  de 
nounce  such  tyranny.  He  escaped  arrest  only  by  quitting  his 
home  and  seeking  the  Tennessee  border  within  a  few  hours 
before  the  soldiers  who  were  ordered  to  make  him  prisoner 
arrived  at  his  house. 

On  the  1 8th  of  November,  1861,  a  Sovereignty  Convention 
was  held  at  Russellville,  Kentucky,  composed  of  delegates  from 
sixty-five  counties  of  the  state.  It  adopted  an  ordinance  of 
secession  and  a  provisional  form  of  state  government.  George 
W.  Johnson  was  elected  governor. 

This  state  government  so  organized,  did  not,  of  course, 
establish  itself  permanently  within  the  limits  of  the  state,  or 


150  REMINISCENCES  OF 

remain  here  very  long,  but  of  necessity  followed  the  movements 
of  the  Confederate  army  under  the  command  of  Gen.  Albert 
Sidney  Johnston.  All  of  its  officials  were  present  at  the  battle 
of  Shiloh.  Governor  Johnson  determined  to  take  personal  part 
in  the  conflict  and  volunteered  to  serve  as  an  aide  on  the  staff 
of  Col.  R.  P.  Trabue,  who  commanded  a  brigade  composed 
in  great  part  of  Kentucky  troops.  His  horse  was  killed  under 
him  early  in  the  day,  and,  procuring  a  musket,  he  then  attached 
himself  to  Capt.  Ben  Monroe's  company  "E"  of  the  Fourth 
Kentucky  infantry,  and  fought  on  foot  in  the  front  of  the  battle 
until  he  received  his  fatal  wound.  In  the  long  and  stubborn 
fighting  when  this  brigade  was  engaged  with  heavy  forces  of 
the  enemy  and  where  it  lost  so  heavily,  Governor  Johnson  was 
one  of  the  victims.  His  body  was  pierced  by  a  musket  ball, 
disabling  him  and  inflicting  a  mortal  wound.  He  lived,  how 
ever,  until  the  next  day,  lying  upon  the  spot  where  he  fell:  in 
the  rush  and  tumult  of  battle  the  wounded  had  not  been  removed. 
He  was  there  recognized,  shortly  before  his  death,  by  General 
McCook,  of  the  Federal  army,  who  had  become  acquainted  with 
him  at  the  Democratic  convention  held  at  Charleston  the 
previous  year,  and,  like  all  who  ever  met  him,  had  conceived 
for  him  a  strong  friendship.  General  McCook  caused  him  to  be 
removed  to  one  of  the  boats  lying  at  the  landing  and  tenderly 
cared  for,  but  his  hurt  was  beyond  surgical  aid,  and  in  a  short 
time  he  died. 

A  braver,  nobler,  more  patriotic  spirit  never  ascended  to  Heaven. 

I  saw,  some  days  since,  an  article  in  which  reference  was 
made  to  an  officer  whom  I  knew  very  well,  and  who  was  certainly 
one  of  the  most  picturesque  figures  of  the  Civil  War.  This  was 
Col.  George  St.  Leger  Grenfell,  an  Englishman  who  came  to 
America  in  the  spring  of  1862  for  the  purpose  of  serving  in  the 
Confederate  army. 

He  brought  letters  of  introduction  to  General  Lee,  and  when 
he  explained  the  kind  of  service  to  which  he  had  been  most 
accustomed,  and  which  he  would  like  to  follow  here,  the  general 
sent  him  to  Morgan,  with  the  request  that  he  be  given  every 
opportunity  to  gratify  his  rather  extraordinary  appetite  for 
hazardous  adventure. 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  151 

Morgan  fell  in  love  with  him  at  first  sight,  and  immediately 
took  him  upon  his  staff.  He  became  assistant  adjutant-general 
of  the  brigade  which  was  afterward  organized,  but  left  us  before 
the  organization  of  the  division. 

His  previous  career  had  been  remarkable,  and,  indeed,  roman 
tic;  and,  as  he  related  it,  as  he  did  to  me,  when  we  had  become 
well  acquainted,  I  thought  I  had  never  heard  or  read  anything 
more  interesting  in  its  way.  His  eldest  brother,  who  was  much 
older  than  himself,  had  been  an  officer  in  the  English  army,  and 
had  served  under  Wellington  in  the  latter  part  of  the  war  in 
Spain.  Wellington,  as  is  well  known,  was  a  severe  and  uncom 
promising  disciplinarian;  and  in  warfare  like  that  which  was 
then  being  waged  in  the  peninsula,  when  it  was  as  important 
to  conciliate  the  native  population  as  to  keep  his  army  in  con 
dition,  he  seems  to  have  been  unusually  strict.  At  a  time  when 
rations  were  very  meager,  young  Grenfell's  servant  took  a  kid 
from  a  Spanish  peasant  for  his  master's  mess.  The  Spaniard 
complained,  and  Welling  ascertaining  that  Grenfell  had  been  the 
beneficiary  of  the  loot  had  him  court-martialled.  This  was  a 
matter  of  so  much  mortification  to  his  father  that  the  old 
gentleman  refused  to  permit  his  younger  son,  George  St.  Leger, 
to  enter  the  English  army.  This  lad,  however,  feeling  an  irre 
sistible  inclination  toward  a  military  life,  quitted  home  at  an 
early  age  and  enlisted  in  a  French  cavalry  corps  in  Algeria. 
He  served  in  some  of  the  bloodiest  battles  of  that  period  when 
France  was  establishing  her  rule  in  northern  Africa.  At  the 
expiration  of  his  term  of  enlistment,  however,  having  become, 
in  a  manner,  naturalized,  he  concluded  to  try  civil  life  among 
the  Moors  and  became  a  resident  and  citizen  of  the  City  of 
Tangiers.  Although  not  a  convert  to  the  faith  of  Mahomet,  he 
was  quite  willing,  with  a  broad  cosmopolitan  view  of  social 
matters,  to  conform  to  the  prevalent  customs  of  the  commun 
ity  in  which  he  dwelt,  and  accordingly  became  connected  by 
marriage  with  a  number  of  the  first  and  most  influential  families 
of  the  place.  When,  subsequently,  the  French  attacked  and 
bombarded  the  town,  he  assisted  in  its  defence,  and  the  battery 
he  commanded  inflicted  a  good  deal  of  damage  on  the  besiegers. 

Although  he  had  been  discharged  from  the  French  service 
several  years  previously,  the  French,  very  illogically,  chose  to 


1 52  REMINISCENCES  OF 

regard  him  as  a  deserter  and  threatened  him  with  military* 
punishment.  Escaping  their  clutches,  however,  he  made  his 
way  to  Abd-El-Kader,  the  Kabyle  leader,  and  remained  for  more 
than  four  years  with  that  celebrated  chieftain,  for  whom  he 
expressed  the  warmest  admiration. 

After  Abd-El-Kader's  final  surrender  he  quitted  Algeria,  but 
still  continued  the  career  of  a  soldier  of  fortune.  He  fought 
the  Riffe  pirates  off  the  coast  of  Morocco,  and  then  served  with 
Garibaldi  in  South  America.  Finally,  tiring  of  this  irregular 
and  barbarous  strife,  and  desirous  of  "settling  down"  to  a  more 
Christian  and  civilized  kind  of  warfare,  he  returned  home  and 
sought  and  obtained  a  commission  in  the  English  service.  He 
fought  in  India  during  the  greater  part  of  the  Sepoy  rebellion, 
and  then  in  the  Crimean  war,  attaining  the  rank  of  lieutenant- 
colonel. 

When  the  Civil  War  in  this  country  began,  he  found  it  utterly 
impossible  to  deny  himself  such  an  excellent  opportunity  for 
occupation  and  excitement  in  his  favourite  vocation,  and,  resign 
ing  his  commission,  came  over  here.  Inasmuch  as  he  sympa 
thized  thoroughly  with  the  South,  he  at  once  espoused  the 
Confederate  cause. 

When  he  joined  Morgan  he  was  nearly  sixty  years  old,  but 
showed  no  sign  of  age  or  failing  physical  powers;  indeed,  he 
seemed  to  be  in  the  full  vigour  of  manhood.  The  description 
in  "Ivanhoe"  of  the  personal  appearance  of  the  Templar, 
Brian  de  Bois  Guilbert,  would  serve  quite  accurately  for  him. 
He  was  tall,  erect,  and  of  thoroughly  military  bearing.  His 
frame  was  spare,  but  sinewy  and  athletic,  and  he  preserved 
the  activity  of  youth.  His  bold,  aquiline  features  were  scorched 
by  the  Eastern  sun  to  a  swarthy  hue,  and  his  face,  while  hand 
some,  wore  always  a  defiant  and  sometimes  fierce  expression. 

He  proved  an  exceeding  efficient  officer,  energetic  and  con 
stant  in  his  attention  to  duty.  His  great  experience  in  a  service 
somewhat  similar  to  ours  —  he  always  said  the  Confederate 
cavalry  raids  reminded  him  of  the  expeditions  made  by  Abd-El- 
Kader  into  the  territory  held  by  the  French  —  was  of  benefit 
when  he  acted  as  Morgan's  chief  of  staff.  His  gallantry  in  battle 
was  superb.  I  shall  never  forget  the  first  time  I  witnessed  his 
conduct  in  this  respect.  It  was  at  Tompkinsville,  the  first 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  153 

fight  Morgan  made  on  his  July  raid  into  Kentucky.  Gano 
had  gone  to  the  rear  of  the  enemy  with  his  Texans;  a  Georgia 
battalion  of  cavalry  which  was  with  us  under  Col.  Archibald 
Hunt,  who  was  mortally  wounded  in  the  action,  was  charging 
in  excellent  style  on  the  left,  and  my  regiment  was  pressing 
hard  on  the  right.  I  did  not  permit  it  to  open  fire  until  we  were 
within  sixty  yards  of  the  enemy,  and  just  at  that  moment  Grenfell 
spurred  his  horse  forward  between  the  two  lines,  risking  the  fire 
of  both,  leaped  a  low  fence  behind  which"  the  enemy  were 
lying,  and  began  slashing  at  them  right  and  left  with 
his  sabre. 

It  was  because  of  something  which  occurred  in  this  fight  that 
a  rather  curious  point  of  military  ethics  was  raised.  Major 
Jordan,  of  Wyncoop's  regiment  of  Pennsylvania  cavalry,  was 
wounded  and  captured  by  a  part  of  Gano's  squadron.  By 
the  way,  he  behaved  very  courageously.  Just  after  the  fight 
was  over  he  was  brought  to  Morgan,  and  immediately  preferred 
a  complaint  against  his  captors  that  they  "had  violated  the  rules 
of  civilized  warfare."  "  In  what  respect,"  said  Morgan.  "  Why, 
they  fired  on  me  and  my  men  with  doublerbarrelled  shot-guns, 
loaded  with  buckshot." 

Gano's  men  were  much  surprised  by  this  accusation,  not 
because  it  wasn't  true,  but  rather  because  it  was.  "D  —  n  the 
Yanks,"  they  said;  "do  they  expect  us  to  load  our  guns  with 
bird  shot?" 

The  stories  that  might  be  told  illustrative  of  Grenfell's  reckless 
eccentricity  would  fill  a  book,  and  nearly  every  man  who  knew 
him  has  an  especial  one  to  tell.  I  shall  relate  only  one.  During 
Bragg's  campaign  in  Kentucky  and  for,  perhaps,  a  month  after 
we  returned  to  Tennessee,  he  suffered  severely  from  a  bone  felon 
on  the  forefinger  of  his  left  hand.  He  tried  to  have  the  surgeons 
amputate  the  finger,  but,  to  his  disgust  and  anger,  they  all 
refused  to  do  so,  saying  that  while  the  recovery  would 
be  tedious,  it  was  sure.  Finally  he  determined  to  perform 
the  operation  himself,  and  placing  his  finger  on  a  block 
he  chopped  it  off  with  a  keen -edged  knife  which  he 
habitually  carried. 

On  the  day  afterward  he  had  occasion  to  thrash  his  landlord 
on  account  of  some  misunderstanding,  and  also  to  chastise  a 


154  REMINISCENCES  OF 

brother  Englishman  about  a  mule.  Notwithstanding  his  dis 
abled  left  hand,  he  accomplished  both  transactions  with  one 
fist  and  without  the  use  of  weapons. 

After  he  left  Morgan's  command,  General  Bragg  made  him 
inspector  of  all  the  cavalry  of  his  army,  which  position  he  held 
for  two  or  three  months,  and  then,  going  east,  served  for  a  short 
time  with  the  Army  of  Northern  Virginia.  In  the  latter  part 
of  1863,  he  concluded  to  seek  other  fields  of  adventure;  and, 
as  he  had  never  regularly  enlisted  in  the  Confederate  army, 
had  no  difficulty  in  leaving. 

He  went  into  the  Northern  states,  wishing  to  see  something 
of  them  before  returning  to  England,  and  in  Chicago  met 
with  Captains  Castleman  and  Hines  of  Morgan's  command, 
who  were  there  planning  the  release  of  the  Confederate 
prisoners  in  Camp  Douglas.  He  knew  them  both  very  well, 
of  course,  and  so  soon  as  he  learned  what  they  were  doing 
volunteered  to  assist.  The  hazard  of  such  an  enterprise 
irresistibly  appealed  to  him. 

Unfortunately  the  plot  was  discovered,  and  Grenfell  was 
arrested  and  tried  by  court-martial.  He  narrowly  escaped  a 
death  sentence,  but  received  one  nearly  as  severe,  and  which 
eventually  resulted  in  his  death.  He  was  sent  to  the  terrible 
prison  of  the  Dry  Tortugas  for  life.  After  remaining  there  six 
or  eight  months,  he  attempted,  with  three  or  four  others,  to 
escape  in  an  open  boat.  Just  after  they  had  put  out  to  sea,  a 
tremendous  storm  arose,  and  as  none  of  the  party  was  ever  heard 
of  again,  it  is  supposed  that  all  were  lost. 

His  old  comrades  of  the  Morgan  command  still  warmly 
remember  him. 

Few  officers  were  better  and  more  favourably  known  to  the 
Kentucky  troops  than  Col.  J.  Stoddard  Johnston  and  no  staff 
officer  in  the  Army  of  Tennessee,  perhaps,  won  a  juster  reputa 
tion  for  gallant  and  efficient  conduct;  none  certainly  was  more 
popular.  He  served  successively  on  the  staff  of  General  Bragg, 
and  as  chief  of  staff  to  General  Breckinridge  and  then  to  General 
Echols,  and  all  of  them  bore  testimony  to  his  capacity  to  furnish 
judicious  counsel,  as  well  as  render  valuable  service  on  the  field 
and  in  the  office.  A  nephew  of  Albert  Sidney  Johnston,  it  was 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  155 

to  be  expected  indeed  that  he  should  evince  military  aptitude 
and  an  inclination  toward  a  martial  career. 

It  is  not,  however,  of  Colonel  Johnston's  service  in  the  army 
that  I  propose  to  tell,  but  of  some  incidents  with  which  he  was 
connected  just  before  it  began,  and  of  his  introduction  to  military 
life.  He  did  not  enter  the  Confederate  service  during  the  first 
year  of  the  war  because  his  presence  was  imperatively  required 
at  home.  His  father-in-law,  George  W.  Johnson,  had  been 
elected  provisional  governor  of  Kentucky  in  pursuance  of  the 
programme  by  which  it  was  attempted  to  make  her  a  Confed 
erate  state,  and  every  Kentucky  Confederate  must  remember 
his  heroic  death  at  Shiloh,  where  he  fell,  musket  in  hand,  fighting 
in  the  ranks  of  one  of  the  Kentucky  infantry  regiments.  Both 
of  Governor  Johnson's  sons  had  enlisted  at  an  early  date,  so  that 
the  only  male  member  of  the  family  who  >could  remain  and  care 
for  it  was  Colonel  Johnston.  He  suceeded  in  doing  so  for  the 
first  twelve  months,  despite  his  decided  and  well  known  Southern 
proclivities,  and  his  frank  expression  of  them,  but  finally  fate 
and  his  convictions  led  him  into  the  Southern  ranks. 

While  he  was  still  occupying  the  position  of  "armed  neu 
trality,"  Morgan  made  his  first  raid  into  Kentucky  and  reached 
Georgetown  in  Scott  county,  near  which  place  Colonel  Johnston 
was  then  living.  He  was  the  acknowledged  leader  and  mentor 
of  the  Southern  sympathizers  in  that  locality;  they  were  guided 
entirely  by  his  advice,  and  their  policy,  so  far  as  they  had  one, 
was  shaped  by  him.  They  had  already  suffered  considerably 
at  the  hands  of  the  provost-marshals  appointed  for  that  region, 
numerous  arrests  had  been  made,  and  several  of  the  more  prom 
inent  rebels  had  been  sent  to  Northern  prisons;  and  a  feeling  of 
great  uneasiness  and  apprehension  was,  of  course,  prevailing 
among  those  who  were  as  yet  unmolested.  There  was,  therefore, 
a  general  and  very  natural  disposition  to  reap  every  possible 
advantage  from  the  presence  of  General  Morgan  and  his  com 
mand  in  their  midst,  and  every  one  looked  to  Colonel  Johnston 
to  devise  the  best  method  by  which  it  might  be  done. 

The  colonel  fully  appreciated  the  necessity  of  accomplishing 
what  was  expected  of  him,  and  felt  also  that  his  reputation  was 
at  stake.  So  he  straightway  prepared  for  General  Morgan's 
signature  one  of  the  most  impressive  proclamations  probably 


156  REMINISCENCES  OF 

ever  issued,  and  which  General  Morgan,  of  course,  readily  agreed 
to  adopt  and  promulge.  In  this  document  Colonel  Johnston 
stated,  or  had  General  Morgan  state,  that  "the  present  occupa 
tion  of  Kentucky  by  the  Confederate  forces  will  be  permanent," 
and  that,  by  a  prompt  and  graceful  evacuation  of  her  territory 
the  Federal  authorities  might  avert  the  unnecessary  effusion  of 
blood.  They  were,  therefore,  fraternally  invited  to  adopt 
this  wise  and  beneficent  course;  and  Colonel  Johnston,  that  is 
to  say,  General  Morgan,  on  his  part  promised  to  use  his  victory 
mildly,  to  be  just,  moderate,  and  humane  in  his  treatment  of 
all  Union  men,  to  respect  their  rights  in  every  particular  and 
make  no  retaliatory  arrests  because  of  the  previous  imprisonment 
of  Southern  sympathizers.  The  proclamation  pointed  out 
clearly  and  with  irrefutable  logic  the  absolute  certainty  of 
speedy  Confederate  success,  and  with  unusual  eloquence  urged 
the  propriety  of  submitting  to  the  inevitable  and  accepting  a 
situation  that  no  human  effort  could  prevent. 

General  Morgan  duly  signed  this  paper  and  did  all  in  his 
power  to  give  it  wide  circulation. 

But  in  the  course  of  three  or  four  days  after  it  was  issued, 
a  practical  contradiction  of  some  of  its  provisions  became  neces 
sary.  Although  Morgan  had  been  uniformly  successful,  he  found 
himself  encompassed  by  a  host  of  enemies,  forces  vastly  superior 
numerically,  to  his  own.  The  objects  of  the  raid  had  also  been 
accomplished;  so  instead  of  waiting  until  the  enemy  should  accept 
the  advice  tendered  him  in  the  proclamation;  viz.,  to  "promptly 
evacuate  the  state,"  he  concluded  to  do  so  himself  and  return 
with  all  possible  celerity  to  Dixie. 

This  necessitated  the  promulgation  of  another  proclamation 
which  should  explain,  although,  of  course,  not  retract,  the  first 
one.  But  Colonel  Johnston  was  equal  to  the  occasion.  He 
immediately  prepared  a  second  and  even  more  powerful  state 
ment,  in  which  General  Morgan  quite  frankly  admitted  that 
because  of  the  receipt  of  very  important  information  from  Gen 
eral  Bragg,  which  he  had  not  anticipated,  his  presence  was 
imperatively  required  in  Tennessee,  and  that  the  permanent 
occupation  of  Kentucky  by  the  Confederate  forces  "must  there 
fore  be  postponed  for  a  brief  period,"  at  the  proper  time,  however, 
it  would  be  taken  up  again  just  where  it  had  been  left  off,  and 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  157 

the  whole  programme  as  previously  indicated  would  be  faith 
fully  performed. 

In  the  meantime  he  trusted  that  all  parties  would  remember 
the  generous  and  benevolent  policy  to  which  he  had  pledged 
himself  in  the  first  proclamation,  and  that  such  recollection 
would  inure  to  the  benefit  of  his  friends,  and  insure  them  clem 
ent  treatment.  He  felt  it  his  duty,  however,  to  say  very 
plainly,  that  if  this  was  not  done,  and  any  Southern  sympathizer 
was  in  any  manner  molested,  the  bitterest  reprisals  would  be 
instituted. 

Not  only  would  Union  men  be  arrested  and  incarcerated  in 
retaliation,  but  the  Federal  evacuation  of  Kentucky,  instead  of 
being  permitted  in  a  peaceable  and  bloodless  fashion,  would  be 
harassed  by  angry  and  resentful  Confederates  until  the  line  of 
retreat  would  be  marked  with  gore  in  a  way  that  would  make 
the  footprints  of  the  American  army  at  Valley  Forge  seem  a 
mere  faint  and  colourless  trail  in  comparison.  Colonel  Johnston, 
and  vicariously,  General  Morgan,  appeared  to  entertain  a  pro 
found  personal  feeling  in  this  matter  of  arrest  and  imprisonment, 
and  the  proclamation  unmistakably  indicated  it.  The  colonel 
had  been  for  some  time  quietly  making  his  preparations  to  go 
south  and  join  the  army,  but  the  discovery  by  the  enemy  —  the 
Yanks  always  found  out  everything  —  that  he  was  the  author 
of  the  proclamation,  hastened  his  departure. 

Soon  after  Morgan's  departure,  therefore,  the  colonel  followed. 
The  excitement  created  by  the  raid  had  not  yet  subsided,  and 
the  suspicion  with  which  all  nomadic  strangers  were  regarded 
at  that  period  was  stronger  than  ever  in  the  region  through  which 
he  had  to  pass,  and  which  was  inhabitated  by  people  almost 
entirely  Union  in  sentiment.  The  Federal  cavalry  also  traversed 
all  that  country,  stopping  every  wayfarer  they  met  and  asking 
very  inconvenient  questions.  So  that  Colonel  Johnston  found 
that  he  must  be  abnormally  wary  and  circumspect,  and  that 
''Eternal  vigilance  was  the  price  of  liberty." 

He  had  as  travelling  companion  and  guide  a  man  named 
Parker  —  Bill  Parker  —  who  was  one  of  General  Bragg's  spies, 
and,  in  that  capacity,  was  often  sent  into  Kentucky.  The 
.Colonel  knew  Bill's  employment,  but  he  also  knew  his  ante 
bellum  reputation,  which  was  exceedingly  unsavoury,  and  that 


i58  '  REMINISCENCES  OF 

spies  sometimes  did  business  on  both  sides.  Consequently,  he 
was  never  free  of  the  fear  of  betrayal,  and  while  looking  out  for 
the  Yankees,  never  failed  to  keep  a  "weather  eye"  on  Bill. 
They  got  along  very  well,  however.  The  colonel  sometimes 
represented  himself  as  a  cattle  buyer,  and  on  other  occasions 
told  a  pathetic  story  of  how  he  was  on  his  way  south,  with  the 
hope  of  reclaiming  a  wayward  and  misguided  younger  brother 
who  had  run  away  to  the  Confederate  army.  Parker  could 
play  many  parts.  He  frequently  prayed  and  exhorted;  and, 
when  he  got  into  congenial  company,  drank  and  gambled. 
Finally  they  reached  that  region  of  Tennessee  in  which  Mor 
gan's  command  was  then  stationed  and  stopped  for  the  night 
at  Sparta,  at  the  house  of  Colonel  Debrell.  Parker  learned 
from  the  family  that  the  Confederates  were  encamped  in  the 
immediate  vicinity,  but  did  not  impart  that  information  to 
Johnston,  who  retired  to  bed  under  the  impression  that  he  was 
still  surrounded  by  enemies.  News  of  their  arrival  was  shortly 
brought  to  our  camp,  and  Col.  W.  C.  P.  Breckinridge,  Captain 
Jennings,  and  myself  at  once  proceeded  to  call  on  them,  to  wel 
come  Johnston  to  the  Confederacy,  and  also  hoping  to  receive 
some  message  from  our  families. 

When  we  reached  the  house  they  were  both,  of  course,  fast 
asleep,  thoroughly  exhausted  by  their  long  and  arduous  journey. 
We  awakened  Parker  first.  So  soon  as  he  was  completely  aroused 
and  had  answered  a  few  questions,  he  said:  "Gentlemen, 
Stoddard  Johnston  is  upstairs,  and  he  don't  know  that  he's 
safe  and  among  friends.  He  thinks  the  Yankees  are  all  around 
here,  and  you  can  have  a  power  of  fun  out  of  him." 

I  should  state  that  while  Colonel  Johnston  knew  Breckin 
ridge  and  myself  intimately,  he  had  never  seen  Jennings.  Jen 
nings  was  a  tall  and  very  imposing-looking  man,  with  a  full, 
long,  red  beard,  which  swept  down  to  his  waist,  and  was  wearing 
on  that  occasion  the  blue  uniform  coat  of  a  Federal  officer. 

Parker  asked  if  Johnston  knew  Jennings,  and,  when  told  that 
he  did  not,  suggested  that  we  should  repair  to  his  room,  awaken 
him  and  pass  off  Jennings  as  a  Yankee  captain  who  had  come 
to  arrest  him.  It  was  a  mean  thing  to  do,  but  rough  jokes  are 
the  fashion  in  war  times,  and  we  all  agreed  to  it.  We  found 
Johnston  sleeping  the  sleep,  if  not  of  the  just,  at  least  of  the 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  159 

very  weary,  and  made  our  arrangements  without  disturb 
ing  him.  We  stationed  Jennings  at  the  foot  of  the  bed  so  that 
Johnston's  eyes  should  fall  upon  him  immediately  on  being 
aroused  and  placed  the  candles  so  that  their  light  should  shine 
full  on^the  blue  coat  and  red  beard.  The  others  kept  out  of 
sight.  When  the  tableau  was  prepared  one  of  the  party  shook 
Johnston  roughly  and,  in  a  gruff  voice,  demanded  that  he  give  an 
account  of  himself.  He  sat  up  in  bed  slowly  and  rubbed  his  eyes, 
but  when  he  caught  sight  of  Jennings,  who  was  frowning  ominous 
ly,  he  uttered  a  hoarse  roar  and  became  as  alert  as  a  nighthawk. 
And  he  at  once  determined  on  his  course. 

"  But  half  awakened  yet 

Sprang  in  his  mind  the  momentary  wit." 

"Gentlemen,"  he  said,  "I  fear  that  you  are  about  to  make  a 
fearful  mistake.  You  are  about  to  arrest  an  innocent  and  a 
loyal  man.  Do  not  be  deceived  by  anything  that  man  Parker 
tells  you.  He  is  utterly  unworthy  of  credit  and  belief,  and  talks 
too  much  anyhow.  I  am  a  quiet,  inoffensive  farmer  from 
Indiana,  and " 

Here  there  was  a  general  burst  of  laughter,  and  Breckinridge 
and  I  made  our  appearance.  He  gazed  in  astonishment  for  a 
moment  and  then  gave  a  wide  grin  of  relief. 

"Oh,  you  rascals,"  he  said,  "you  thought  you  were  playing 
a  good  joke  on  me,  but  I  understood  it  all  the  time.  I  fooled 
you  completely.  I  told  Parker  yesterday  that  when  I  got  here 
I  was  going  to  work  something  of  this  kind  on  you." 


CHAPTER  VIII 

SOME  of  those,  who,  during  the  Civil  War,  were  residents  of 
central  Kentucky  or  middle  Tennessee,  may  remember  the 
Fidette,  a  so-called  newspaper  as  always  of  unique  appear 
ance  and  altogether  original  management.  It  came  out  during 
the  years  1862  and  1863,  at  irregular  intervals,  but  always  simul 
taneously  with  the  presence  of  Morgan's  command  in  the  locality 
where  it  happened  to  be  published.  It  had  no  fixed  place  of  pub 
lication,  but  was  nomadic,  for  the  reason  that  certain  members  of 
Morgan's  command  printed,  edited,  and  issued  it,  only  when 
there  came  a  lull  in  the  more  serious  business  in  which  they  were 
engaged,  and  they  were  so  fortunate  as  to  procure  the  means 
and  material  necessary  to  the  make-up  of  this  quasi-periodical. 

As  might  have  been  expected  in  an  experiment  of  this  nature 
—  an  attempt  to  run  a  newspaper  upon  partisan  cavalry  lines  — 
the  circulation  was  uncertain  and  limited,  and  entirely  unsuc 
cessful,  of  course,  from  a  commercial  standpoint.  It  neverthe 
less  afforded  great  entertainment  to  its  publishers  and  their 
comrades,  and  also  to  the  country  people  in  the  vicinity  of  the 
little  towns  in  which  it  was  successively  printed.  The  cavalry 
and  their  rustic  friends  expected  its  appearance  with  great  in 
terest  and  pleasure.  The  townspeople,  on  the  other  hand  — 
regarded  it  with  a  good-natured  indifference,  such  as  became 
those  who  were  in  closer  touch  with  the  world  and  knew  more 
of  what  was  going  on  in  it. 

Its  publication  was  suggested  by  some  of  our  fellows  having 
found,  in  a  deserted  building  in  Hartsville,  Tenn.,  upon  our 
first  visit  to  that  delightful  place,  a  printing  press  and  a  lot  of 
type,  the  property  of  a  gentleman  who  had,  just  previously  to 
the  breaking  out  of  the  war,  been  the  proprietor  and  publisher 
of  the  Hartsville  Weekly  —  I  forget  the  rest  —  but  it  was  said 
to  have  been  a  very  lively  and  able  paper.  Inasmuch  as  this 
journalist  was  an  ardent  patriot,  and  of  a  disposition  even  more 
bellicose  than  literary,  he  had,  at  the  first  tap  of  the  drum, 

160 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  161 

abandoned  his  business,  his  sanctum,  and  the  tools  of  this  trade  to 
whomsoever  might  choose  to  become  his  successor  —  indeed, 
without  giving  a  thought  to  what  became  of  them  —  and  en 
listed  in  the  Confederate  army.  He  was  carrying  a  musket  in  a 
Tennessee  infantry  regiment  and  still  pouring  hot  shot  into  the 
Yankees,  in  a  way,  perhaps,  more  unpleasant  ,to  them  than 
his  former  scathing  editorial  attacks  could  have  been,  even  had 
these  terrible  invectives  been  read  beyond  the  confines  of 
Sumner  County. 

Gordon  E.  Niles,  the  then  acting  adjutant  of  the  Second  Ken 
tucky  Cavalry,  was  a  practical  printer  and  newspaper  man.  He 
was  a  native  of  New  York  State,  and  at  the  time  the  "  unpleasant 
ness"  culminated  was  conducting  a  paper  at  Lockport,  N.  Y. 
But  he  was  an  uncompromising  states'  rights  Democrat  and 
ardently  sympathized  with  the  South.  He  was  also  as  impetuous 
as  he  was  brave  and  sincere,  so  at  the  earliest  opportunity  he 
made  his  way  to  the  Confederacy  and  joined  Morgan.  When 
Niles  saw  the  press  and  type  his  professional  instinct  urged  him  to 
utilize  them,  and  as  there  were  five  or  six  printers  in  the  regiment 
he  had  no  difficulty  in  organizing  a  good  working  force.  There 
was  some  difficulty  in  regard  to  the  editorial  staff  —  that  is  to 
say,  in  keeping  it  within  due  limits  —  as  a  large  number  of  brill 
iant  and  ambitious  young  writers  wished  to  be  on  it,  and  all  of 
them  wanted  to  write  the  leading  articles. 

The  chief  trouble  Niles  had,  and  after  him  his  successors,  was 
to  procure  ink  and  paper.  There  was  a  great  scarcity  of  paper  in 
the  South,  and  that  which  was  to  be  had  in  the  small  towns  was  so 
coarse  and  inferior  as  scarcely  to  deserve  the  term.  It  was  not  easy 
to  distinguish  a  large  sheet  of  it  from  one  side  of  a  gunny  bag. 
Such  paper  as  could  be  gotten  was  also  of  every  conceivable  colour 
except  white.  Some  of  it  exhibited  a  decided  hue  of  one  tint,  some 
of  another.  So  that  the  Vidette  presented  an  exceedingly  varie 
gated  and  attractive  aspect  and  its  columns  were  full  of  colour. 

Niles,  poor  fellow,  did  not  long  survive  the  inauguration  of 
the  enterprise  in  which  he  felt  so  much  interest.  He  was  killed 
soon  afterward  before  the  Stockade  at  Edgefield  Junction,  pierced 
with  five  balls.  He  was  suceeded  as  editor-in-chief  by  Cap 
tain,  afterward  Col.  Robert  A.  Alston. 

Alston  had  peculiar  views  about  how  to  run  a  paper  which 


162  REMINISCENCES  OF 

hardly  accorded  with  those  now  in  vogue.  He  adhered  very  closely 
to  fact,  it  is  true,  when  publishing  anything  of  practical  impor 
tance  to  the  command  —  general  orders,  etc.  —  but  in  other 
matters  he  seemed  to  think  that  facts  were  impedimental  if  not 
misleading.  He  indulged  in  pleasing  prognostications  of  certain 
success  and  profound  and  instructive  speculations  concerning  the 
national  future  of  the  Confederacy,  and  the  influence  of  the 
South  would  exert  upon  the  history  of  the  world.  All  of  this 
accorded  with  the  hopes  and  confident  expectations  of  his  readers. 
So  the  tone  of  the  Vidette  never  admitting  the  possibility  of 
disaster  and  frequently  announcing  Confederate  victories  even 
before  they  occurred,  made  it  a  very  popular  journal  with  those 
who  habitually  received  it. 

The  topics  which  received  most  attention  in  this  little  paper 
were  those,  of  course,  more  directly  relating  to  the  cavalry  service, 
and  especially  the  movements  of  our  own  command.  The  events 
of  our  marches,  raids,  scouts,  and  combats  were  duly  chronicled; 
every  incident  of  interest,  in  short,  of  campaigning  experience,  of 
personal  adventure  and  personal  prowess  was  narrated.  The 
operations  of  the  contending  armies  and  the  conduct  of  the  com 
manders  on  both  sides  were  freely  discussed  and  criticized;  and 
marvellously  original  plans  of  campaigns  were  suggested  and 
explained  with  a  strategic  ability  which,  strange  to  say,  never 
obtained  recognition. 

No  one  could  read  the  Vidette  without  becoming  impressed 
with  its  generous  desire  to  give  sound,  wholesome  advice  to 
Federal  as  well  as  Confederate  authorities.  It  evinced  a  singu 
larly  honest  and  impartial  inclination  in  this  respect,  which  did 
its  managers  great  credit.  This  spirit  was  well  illustrated  by  an 
exceedingly  profound  article  upon  the  removal  of  General  Buell 
from  command  of  the  Federal  army  in  Tennessee  just  after  the 
conclusion  of  Bragg' s  invasion  of  Kentucky.  The  writer  pointed 
out,  with  great  power  and  perspicuity,  how  ill-advised  was  the 
action  of  Mr.  Lincoln  in  this  regard,  and  demonstrated  the  evil 
results  to  the  cause  of  the  Union  which  would  certainly  follow. 
It  was  couched  in  a  tone  of  indignant  remonstrance  that  might 
have  induced  the  belief  that  it  was  written  by  some  staff  officer 
of  Buell,  but  for  the  fact  that,  in  conclusion,  the  writer  urged 
upon  Mr.  Davis  the  propriety  of  removing  General  Bragg. 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  163 

It  must  be  admitted  that  in  political  discussion  the  editors 
of  the  Vidette  adopted  a  style  more  caustic  and  acrimonious, 
and  sometimes  employed  language  more  virulent  than  was 
exactly  in  accordance  with  the  demands  of  an  austere  taste. 
But  it  must  be  remembered  that  it  is  the  fashion  of  the  camp  to 
speak  candidly,  and  the  writers  were  generally  in  haste  and  had 
little  time  to  select  discreet  and  temperate  phraseology. 

Inasmuch  as,  for  reasons  that  can  be  well  understood,  the 
Vidette  had  no  exchange  list,  there  can  be  scarcely  a  doubt  that 
the  great  dailies  of  the  North  rarely,  if  ever,  had  an  opportunity 
to  examine  its  columns.  This,  perhaps,  spared  those  papers  some 
pangs;  it  may  even  have  been  that  it  prevented  Horace  Greeley 
from  calling  those  in  charge  of  the  Vidette  "liars  and  villains." 
Prentice,  on  one  occasion,  excited  by  a  proclamation  from  General 
Morgan  threatening  retaliation  for  certain  conduct  on  the  part  of 
the  Federal  cavalry,  and  which  was  published  in  the  Vidette ',  resorted 
to  the  use  of  language  as  strong  and  as  unceremonious  as  that 
employed  by  the  parties  he  was  denouncing.  His  feeling  was 
perhaps  aggravated  by  the  fact  that  a  copy  of  this  issue  was 
smuggled  to  him  through  the  lines;  and  he  saw  himself  referred 
to  as  the  probable  instigator  of  the  outrages  for  which  reprisal 
was  threatened. 

I  can  remember  no  other  instance  in  which  the  existence  of 
the  Vidette  was  recognized  by  its  more  noted  contemporaries. 
I  am  inclined  to  believe  that  none  of  them  was  aware  of  how 
greatly  journalism  was  being  enriched  and  benefited  by  its 
contributions. 

There  was  not  much  of  what  is  technically  termed  "sport" 
in  the  army.  The  life  of  the  soldier  was  both  strenuous  and 
simple,  and  little  time  was  given  or  opportunity  afforded  for 
amusement;  although  the  boys  were  strangely  contented  with 
their  tough  work  and  hard  fare,  and  inclined  to  be  jolly  under 
circumstances  that  the  civilian  would  scarcely  suppose  likely  to 
induce  such  feeling.  I  remember  being  much  impressed  with  a 
story  told  me  in  the  winter  of  '62-'63,  which  curiously  illus 
trated  their  propensity  to  find  fun  in  even  painful  situations. 
One  of  my  couriers  had  paid  a  visit  to  Manchester,  Tennessee, 
where  the  "Orphan"  brigade  was  then  encamped,  to  see  a  brother 


164  REMINISCENCES  OF 

who  belonged  to  Capt.  John  H.  Waller's  company  of  the  Kentucky 
infantry. 

When  he  returned,  I  questioned  him  about  what  he  had  seen 
and  learned,  being,  of  course,  interested  in  all  that  concerned  my 
Kentucky  brethren.  He  gave  me  a  very  succinct  account  of  the 
condition  of  affairs  in  the  brigade,  and  when  I  asked  if  the  boys 
were  in  good  spirits,  answered;  "Oh,  the  best  in  the  world,  sir. 
I  never  seen  men  enjoy  themselves  more.  While  I  was  there  I 
seen  'em  pull  Captain  Weller's  tooth  —  he'd  been  havin' 
the  toothache  bad;  it  was  a  big  jaw-tooth  and  awful  hard  to 
git  out.  They  set  him  straddle  of  a  log  and  two  men  held  his 
arms  while  Bill  Smith  yanked  at  the  tooth  with  a  bullet  mould." 

"Well,"  I  said,  "I  can't  understand  what  there  was  in  that  to 
cause  men  to  enjoy  themselves." 

"Oh,  no,  of  course  not,  sir;  not  just  in  that.  But  when  Bill 
histed  him  off  of  the  log  and  drug  him  ten  feet  before  the  tooth 
come,  he  made  a  face  and  spit  out  a  howl  what  would  have  made 
a  dog  laugh." 

With  the  cavalry,  when  idle  in  camp,  horse-racing  was  much  in 
vogue,  although,  of  course,  strictly  against  orders,  and  therefore 
carried  on  clandestinely  as  a  rule.  Inasmuch,  however,  as  it  was 
inhibited,  not  upon  moral  grounds,  or  because  it  was  prejudical 
to  discipline,  but  in  order  that  the  horses  might  be  kept  in  ser 
viceable  condition,  it  was  in  some  cases,  at  least,  connived  at 
when  no  such  result  was  likely  to  follow.  Some  of  the  regiments 
were  the  proud  stockholders  of  very  fleet  ponies,  which,  when 
occasion  offered,  were  matched  against  one  another.  Such 
events  were  very  exciting,  and  large  sums  in  Confederate  money 
usually  changed  hands  when  they  came  off.  Cock-fighting  was  a 
more  favourite  pastime  with  the  infantry,  and  had  the  advantage 
that  a  beaten  competitor  could  be  utilized  to  improve  the  scanty 
Confederate  ration.  Cards,  of  course,  were  in  general  use  among 
the  soldiers  of  every  branch  of  the  service,  and  it  was  astonishing 
how  long  a  pack  would  last,  perhaps  because  more  tenderly 
handled,  and  the  men  played  on  blankets  instead  of  tables. 

The  most  diverting  and  comical  sight  I  ever  witnessed  during 
the  war  in  the  way  of  sport,  however,  was  a  gander-pulling 
conducted  by  the  men  of  Morgan's  squadron,  on  Christmas  Day, 
1861.  It  was  an  event  of  stirring  interest  and  drew  crowds  of 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  165 

spectators  from  all  the  neighbouring  commands.  A  stalwart, 
middle-aged  gander,  with  a  neck  as  stringy  and  tough  as  a  piece 
of  commissary  beef,  was  suspended  head  down  from  a  swinging 
limb.  The  contestants,  eight  or  ten  in  number,  put  up  a  silver 
dollar  each,  and  were  entitled  to  pull  in  turn  until  some  one  of 
them  should  jerk  off  the  bird's  head,  the  winner  of  course,  to 
receive  the  entire  amount  put  up.  They  were  mounted  and  re 
quired  to  ride  at  full  gallop  under  the  gander,  snatching  at  him  as 
they  went  by.  They  were  prohibited  by  the  rules  of  the  game 
from  halting  or  even  slackening  speed  as  they  passed,  and  to 
enforce  this  regulation  two  men  provided  with  stout,  long,  black- 
snake  whips  stood  at  each  side  of  the  path  and  belaboured  his 
horse  if  any  rider  evinced  the  least  inclination  to  go  slow. 

The  gander  dodged  with  wonderful  adroitness,  which  made  it 
extremely  difficult  to  get  hold  of  him,  and  as  his  neck  was  well 
soaped,  it  was  almost  impossible  to  maintain  a  grip  upon  it  after 
it  was  obtained.  After  many  unsuccessful  efforts,  the  contest 
ants  began  to  lose  temper  under  the  laughter  and  jeers  of  the 
spectators.  At  length  one  big  fellow  came  to  a  dead  stop  at  the 
tree,  and  seizing  the  gander's  neck  with  both  hands,  deliberately 
strove  to  twist  it  off.  The  whip  bearers  lashed  his  horse  soundly, 
but  gripping  the  horse,  which  was  small  and  scarcely  stronger 
than  himself,  tightly  with  his  knees,  the  rider,  notwithstanding 
the  animal's  plunges,  held  him  firmly  to  the  spot,  and  retained 
his  grasp  on  the  gander.  There  was  at  once  a  loud  protest  from 
the  competitors  and  the  by-standers,  and  many  cries  of  foul; 
the  offender  gave  no  heed  and  still  hung  on.  He  might  have 
succeeded  in  wringing  off  the  gander's  head  but  for  something 
which  effectually  diverted  his  attention,  and  which,  whether 
accidental  or  intentional,  was  well  calculated  to  have  that  effect. 
It  is  to  be  expected,  of  course,  that  the  nether  garments  of  a 
cavalry  man  in  active  service  will  wear  somewhat  thin 
in  the  seat,  and  this  was  especially  the  matter  with  that  big 
fellow's  breeches. 

By  an  unusually  violent  plunge  he  was  suddenly  thrown  for 
ward  in  a  horizontal  position  along  his  horse's  back,  completely 
exposing  that  part  of  his  anatomy  which  should  have  been  pro 
tected  by  his  saddle.  Just  then  a  whip  lash  descended  with  the 
full  force  of  the  muscular  arm  which  plied  it  on  the  thinnest, 


i66  REMINISCENCES  OF 

most  threadbare  spot  in  his  pantaloons*  It  must  have  been 
imagination,  but,  I  really  thought  that  I  could  see  smoke  rising 
under  the  stripe.  The  injured  man  instantly  let  go  his  hold  of  the 
gander  and  clasped  both  hands  on  the  afflicted  region,  swearing 
to  make  the  earth  rumble  and  the  air  grow  hazy.  In  a  frenzy 
of  rage  he  leaped  to  the  ground  and  rushed  upon  his  assailant, 
bent  on  dire  revenge.  For  a  short  time  it  seemed  a  sure  thing 
that  some  other  neck  than  that  of  the  gander's  would  be  broken, 
and  a  large  detail  was  required  and  actively  employed  to  re 
strain  the  smarting  and  infuriated  cavalier  from  bloodshed,  but 
he  was  finally  pacified  by  permission  to  take  the  purse.  After 
this  incident  all  parties  agreed  that  gander  pulling  was  a  cruel 
and  indecorous  game,  and  the  gander's  head  was  chopped  off 
with  an  axe. 

The  most  remarkable  instance  I  can  remember  of  a  game  of 
any  kind  played  under  fire,  was  something  I  witnessed  in  Novem 
ber,  1864.  Gen.  John  C.  Breckinridge,  then  in  command  of  the 
Department  of  South-western  Virginia,  had  moved  from  Abing- 
don  into  east  Tennessee  for  the  purpose  of  obtaining  at  least 
brief  command  of  a  considerable  portion  of  that  fertile  territory 
whence  rich  supplies  might  be  drawn.  He  attacked  General 
Gillem,  who  held  the  strong  position  of  Bull's  Gap  with  a  force 
larger  than  that  with  which  Breckinridge  assailed  it.  My  brigade 
was  in  advance,  and  I  was  ordered  to  attack  and  drive  in  a 
strong  Federal  detachment  formed  in  front  of  the  gap,  when  I 
came  up,  and  to  keep  control  of  the  field  until  the  rest  of  our 
command  arrived.  I  followed  instructions,  and  after  forcing 
the  enemy  into  their  fortifications,  aligned  my  brigade  in  front 
of  them,  making  the  men  lie  down  to  avoid,  as  well  as  possible,  the 
effect  of  the  artillery  fire,  which  the  enemy  opened  on  us. 

The  shells  were  bursting  just  over  my  line,  but  too  high  in  the 
air  to  do  much  damage.  As  I  lay  flat  on  my  back,  presenting 
the  least  target  I  could  and  watching  the  shells  explode,  I  noticed 
that  at  one  point  of  the  line,  about  thirty  yards  from  where  I  was, 
they  seemed,  at  each  successive  discharge  to  burst  closer  to  the 
ground.  There  was  a  small  bushy  tree  at  this  point,  and  near 
by  it  sat  a  Tennesseean,  named  McElroy,  an  excellent  soldier. 
He  was  playing  mumblepeg  and  methodically  going  through 
with  all  the  devices  of  that  old  game,  giving  no  heed  to  what  was 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  167 

going  on  around  him.  Just  as  he  had  reached  the  point  where 
the  player  takes  the  blade  of  his  knife  in  his  teeth,  and,  tossing 
it  in  the  air,  seeks  to  stick  it  in  the  ground  near  the  peg,  a  shell 
burst  immediately  over  him.  What  seemed  to  be  a  great  ball 
of  fire  fell  from  it,  striking  McElroy  on  the  neck  and  shoulders, 
and  instantly  he  was  enveloped  in  flames. 

I  supposed  that  he  had  been  torn  into  fragments,  but  when, 
with  two  or  three  of  my  staff,  I  reached  the  spot  to  which  we 
at  once  rushed  to  ascertain  his  condition  and  assist  him  if  possible, 
we  found  him  alive,  but  writhing  and  shrieking  in  an  agony  of 
pain.  He  cried  out  to  me:  "Oh,  general,  for  God's  sake  put  out 
this  fire. "  We  tore  his  clothing  from  him,  scorching  our  hands  in 
doing  so,  and  it  off  came  as  easily  as  charred  paper  would  have 
done.  But,  strange  to  say,  he  was  not  at  all  mutilated;  no  frag 
ment  of  iron  had  stricken  him,  but  he  was  horribly  burned  from 
his  neck  to  his  heels,  and  when  he  finally  recovered  he  was 
wealed  with  ghastly  scars.  I  saw  him  for  the  first  time  in 
many  years  at  the  Confederate  Veterans'  reunion  at  Louisville  in 
June,  1905.  He  was  hale  and  hearty  and  still  "full  of 
fight,"  but  I  scarcely  think  he  would  be  willing  to  face  another 
incendiary  shell. 

I  have  rarely  heard  with  more  interest  the  recital  of  any 
historical  event  than  that  of  the  "Civil  War  in  Shelbyville. " 
"Dick  Owens,"  who  related  it  to  me,  so  styled  it  because  the 
"fighting  was  entirely  between  home  folks,"  and  was  also  of 
a  perfectly  mild  and  innocuous  character  —  such  as,  Dick  said, 
that  of  a  civil  war  ought  to  be,  although  it  is  generally  otherwise. 

Mr.  Owens  did  not  witness  the  scenes  he  was  so  fond  of  de 
picting.  At  the  date  of  their  occurrence  he  was  carrying  a  musket 
in  the  ranks  of  the  Army  of  Northern  Virginia  and  an  active  par 
ticipant  in  war  of  quite  another  kind. 

But  warmly  interested  in  all  that  concerned  his  native  town, 
he  informed  himself  of  such  war  legends  as  were  current  there 
upon  his  return  from  the  field,  and  was  wont  to  narrate  the 
incidents  on  which  they  were  founded,  more  accurately,  he 
declared,  and  more  vividly,  all  admitted,  than  those  who  were 
present  and  saw  them. 

Shelbyville,    Kentucky,    is   one   of  the   prettiest   and   most 


1 68  REMINISCENCES  OF 

attractive  places  —  as  every  one  knows  —  in  the  state.  It  is 
situated  in  a  fertile  and  beautiful  region,  and  has  been  noted 
since  its  earliest  settlement  for  the  intelligence,  hospitality,  and 
sterling  worth  of  its  population.  Like  nearly  every  community 
in  Kentucky,  the  town  and  the  county  of  Shelby,  of  which  it  is 
the  county  seat,  furnished  a  fair  quota  of  soldiers  to  both  armies 
—  Federal  and  Confederate  —  but  at  no  time  during  the  war 
did  the  troops  of  either,  with  the  exception,  perhaps,  of  an 
occasional  small  squad  of  cavalry,  approach  that  locality  with 
hostile  intent  or  in  any  wise  disturb  its  peace.  Nevertheless 
it  had  its  share  of  false  alarms  and  was  often  agitated  by  rumours 
of  impending  invasion.  This  anticipation  of  belligerent  horrors 
was,  doubtless,  well  nigh  as  unpleasant  as  the  reality.  I  shall 
endeavour  to  describe  what  occurred  on  one  such  occasion  as 
nearly  as  possible  as  it  was  told  to  me. 

While  all  quiet  citizens  deprecated  the  advent  of  military 
visitors  of  any  character,  resistance  was,  of  course,  never  con 
templated  except  when  they  were  Confederates.  "Home 
guard"  companies  had  been  organized  all  over  the  state,  which 
were  expected,  in  the  absence  of  Federal  troops,  to  defend  their 
respective  districts  from  "rebel"  intrusion. 

One  such,  had  been  formed  in  Shelby  County,  and  as  the 
greater  number  of  its  members  lived  in  Shelbyville  the  captain 
was  chosen  from  among  the  citizens  of  the  town.  Although  an 
ardent  and  uncompromising  Union  man,  he  was  liked  by  his 
fellow-citizens  of  Southern  proclivities  and  was  disposed  to  use 
his  influence  to  aid  them  when  in  trouble  because  of  a  too  free 
expression  of  opinion.  Independently  of  many  other  good  rea 
sons  for  his  election  to  this  exalted  and  responsible  position,  he 
was  the  proprietor  and  keeper  of  the  hotel  —  a  house  which 
furnished  excellent  entertainment  both  of  food  and  drink  —  and 
he  was  therefore  sure  to  be  in  frequent  contact  with  the  majority, 
if  not  with  all,  of  his  company;  and  by  ringing  the  bell  by  which 
the  hours  of  meals  were  announced  he  could,  if  necessity  required, 
conveniently  and  promptly  assemble  them. 

The  company  had  its  due  complement  of  officers,  but  in  ad 
dition  thereto  the  principal  physician  of  Shelbyville  was  made 
the  military  adviser  of  the  captain;  not,  as  Dick  Owens  rather 
flippantly  suggested,  because  he  was  supposed  to  have 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  169 

professional  knowledge  of  every  method  of  inflicting  death,  but 
really  because  he  was  a  profound  military  student  and  had  read 
everything  about  the  Mexican  War  and  the  heroes  of  the 
Revolution. 

Not  only  did  Captain  Armstrong  conscientiously  appreciate 
the  importance  of  the  duties  which  he  had  assumed,  but  his 
good  wife  likewise  did.  She  was  determined  that  her  husband 
should  be  attired,  when  on  duty,  in  a  manner  befitting  his  rank 
—  in  a  uniform  which  should  inspire  his  followers  with  confi 
dence  and  his  enemies  with  terror. 

She  was  ignorant  of  what  the  United  States  army  regulations 
prescribed  in  the  matter  of  uniform;  indeed,  had  not  even  a 
general  acquaintance  with  the  subject  of  military  dress,  but 
believed,  and  justly,  that  ingenuity  could  be  made  to  supply  the 
lack  of  knowledge.  So  she  devised  and  caused  to  be  constructed 
the  most  brilliant  outfit  that  warrior  ever  wore.  From  the  cap, 
which  was  shaped  like  a  turban,  to  the  gaiters,  every  garment  and 
article  of  equipment  was  of  a  different  and  intensely  vivid  hue. 
The  captain's  portly  figure — andhewasunusually  stout, although 
not  tall  —  was  resplendent  in  red,  blue,  and  yellow.  No  chieftain, 
not  even  a  Scotch  Highlander,  could  have  presented  a  more 
variegated  garb  to  the  critical  eye  of  a  sharp-shooter. 

He  was  a  proud  and  pleased  man  when  this  uniform  was  shown 
him.  His  disposition  was  kind  and  peaceable;  he  had  never 
borne  malice  against  any  one,  had  never  wished  to  harm  even  the 
enemies  of  his  flag.  But  now  he  panted  for  combat,  even  if  it 
should  be  accompanied  with  bloodshed;  for  he  wanted  to  wear 
the  uniform,  but  was  resolved  to  don  it  only  on  great  and  serious 
occasions.  At  length  the  opportunity  occurred. 

When  Morgan  made  his  raid  into  central  Kentucky,  in  the 
summer  of  1862,  the  impression  seemed  to  prevail  that  he  was 
ubiquitous.  It  was  reported  that  he  was  in  or  marching  upon 
every  part  of  the  country  at  the  same  time.  In  every  vicinage 
his  coming  was  hoped  by  friends  or  feared  by  foes. 

Early  one  morning  the  rumour  came  that  he  was  rapidly  ap 
proaching  Shelbyville.  He  was  really  a  long  distance  away  and 
moving  in  another  direction;  but  the  report  was  credited  and  the 
excitement  was  in  proportion.  The  bell  was  rung,  and  the  home 
guards  turned  out  to  do  or  die. 


170  REMINISCENCES  OF 

There  had  been  an  understanding  that  the  company,  when 
ever  convened  for  the  defence  of  the  town,  should  meet  on  the 
main  street  in  front  of  the  court-house.  So  almost  before  the 
brazen  clangour  of  the  tocsin  had  ceased,  the  men  were  at  the 
rendezvous,  anxious  that  fortune  might  turn  aside  the  assailant, 
but  solemnly  resolved  to  face  the  worst.  When  the  captain 
arrived,  however,  and  they  for  the  first  time  saw  him  in  his 
uniform,  all  doubt  and  fear  gave  way  to  an 'unqualified  antici 
pation  of  victory.  After  a  few  brave  words  of  encouragement 
to  their  comrades,  the  captain  and  the  military  adviser  seated 
themselves  in  the  middle  of  the  street  on  chairs  which  were 
brought  from  the  hotel  for  their  accommodation,  and  as  the  sun 
was  beginning  to  send  down  a  shower  of  fiery  rays,  the  captain 
hoisted  a  large  green  umbrella,  completing  his  assortment  of  the 
primary  colours. 

The  rest  of  the  company  sat  on  the  curb-stones  on  both  sides 
of  the  street  and  awaited,  as  comfortably  as  was  possible  under 
the  circumstances,  the  approach  of  the  enemy.  Numerous 
reports  of  his  proximity  and  bad  conduct  were  brought  in  dur 
ing  the  morning,  and  about  ten  o'clock  a  courier  came  with  the 
news  that  Morgan  had  sacked  and  burned  Mt.  Eden,  a  little 
hamlet  about  eight  miles  from  Shelbyville,  had  slain  all 
the  men,  and  carried  off  the  women  and  children  into 
captivity.  He  was  now  marching,  said  the  courier,  straight 
upon  Shelbyville.  This  was  a  striking  example  of  Morgan's 
celerity  of  movement,  inasmuch  as  at  nine  o'clock  on  the 
same  morning  he  was  certainly  at  Versailles,  more  than  thirty 
miles  distant. 

Before  the  excitement  created  by  this  news  had  in  any  degree 
subsided,  a  horseman  came  from  the  same  direction  at  a  rapid 
gallop.  He  was  a  wild-looking  fellow,  and  while  flourishing  a 
pistol  about  his  head,  was  uttering  loud  shouts  in  which  could  be 
distinguished  only  the  words,  "Morgan"  and  "here  he  comes." 
This  was  another  home-guard  courier,  primed  with  the  report 
that  Morgan  was  just  about  to  enter  the  town;  but  as  he  was 
thoroughly  disguised  in  drink,  his  comrades  failed  to  recognize 
him.  Indeed,  on  account  of  his  reckless  demeanour  they 
took  him  to  be  one  of  Morgan's  advance  videttes.  So  when  he 
came  dashing  down  upon  them  at  full  speed,  every  one  of  the 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  171 

company,  except  the  captain,  hunted  shelter  of  some  kind,  and 
the  military  adviser  formed  behind  a  tree-box. 

Then  it  was  that  Captain  Armstrong  displayed  the  coolness 
and  ready  resource  of  a  born  commander.  He  did  not  rise  from 
his  chair  until  the  rushing  horse  was  almost  upon  him,  and  when 
he  did  so,  presented  the  umbrella  in  front  and  directly  in  the 
animal's  face.  This  method  of  "receiving  cavalry"  proved 
as  effective  as  it  was  novel.  The  horse  stopped  short,  and  the 
rider  was  shot  over  his  head,  falling  at  the  captain's  feet  with  a 
howl  of  terror.  His  evident  fright  partially  restored  the  courage 
of  the  men  he  had  nearly  stampeded,  and  they  rushed  upon 
him  from  all  directions.  The  tall  form  of  the  military  adviser 
emerged  from  the  safe  side  of  the  tree-box  and  his  voice  rang  out 
above  the  tumult. 

"Kill  him,"  he  shouted.  "Slay  him  where  he  lies.  Never 
let  him  leave  this  spot  alive. "  The  courier,  who,  of  course,  had 
no  idea  of  the  mistake  under  which  his  friends  were  labouring, 
believed  that  they  were  going  to  put  him  to  death  because  he'was 
the  bearer  of  bad  news,  as  the  monarchs  of  antiquity  used  to 
treat  the  messengers  of  evil  tidings.  Consequently  he  yelled  a 
lusty  protest. 

"Good  Lord,  men,"  he  said,  "what  do  you  want  to  kill  me 
for?  How  kin  I  help  Morgan  from  comin'  here,  if  he  has  a  mind 
to?"  His  life  was  spared,  but  the  demoralization  his  story  created 
when  he  recovered  breath  to  tell  it,  was  irremediable.  All  disci 
pline  was  destroyed,  and  every  man  spoke  as  freely  as  if  in  a  mass 
convention.  Finally,  in  the  multitude  of  conflicting  suggestions, 
one  seemed  to  be  received  with  favour. 

"  I'll  jest  tell  you  what's  the  matter,  Cap, "  said  its  propounder, 
"the  trouble  is  this  here  ain't  a  good  position.  They  kin  come 
in  on  us  here  from  too  many  points.  I  move  that  we  go  to  the 
end  of  town  whar  we  can't  be  surrounded,  and  when  them  blamed 
rebels  come  we  kin  fall  back  on  Clay  village." 

"I  second  the  motion,"  shouted  the  first  corporal.  "We 
kin  die  for  our  country  jest  as  well  in  the  edge  of  town  as  we  kin 
at  the  court-house." 

The  motion  carried  itself,  and  every  one  started  for  the  "edge 
of  town."  Just  as  they  reached  it,  however,  they  found  them 
selves  confronted  with  a  body  of  armed  men  hurrying  forward  on 


1 72  REMINISCENCES  OF 

foot,  but  whether  friends  or  enemies  they  could  not  determine. 
Both  parties  halted,  uncertain  what  to  do.  But  when  Captain 
Armstrong  pressed  to  the  front  of  his  lines  and  was  about  to 
give  the  order  to  fire,  the  other  fellows,  so  soon  as  they  caught 
sight  of  him,  broke  and  fled  with  every  evidence  of  conster 
nation.  It  was  soon  discovered  that  they  were  also  home  guards 
coming  from  the  country  precincts  to  reinforce  their  friends  in 
town;  but,  when  first  questioned,  they  gave  the  most  confused 
and  incoherent  explanation  of  their  panic.  No  man  could  assign 
any  intelligible  reason  for  it,  until  Captain  Armstrong  had  reached 
the  point  where  the  fugitives  had  been  induced  to  halt  and  par 
ley.  Then  their  officer  spoke  for  them  all. 

"Thar's  the  explanation,"  he  said  emphatically.  "We  didn't 
know  Captain  Armstrong  in  that  rig,  and  any  man  in  sech  a  rig 
could  skeer  anybody  what  didn't  know  him  out  of  the  county. 
Me  and  my  men  jined  this  business  expectin'  to  fight  human 
bein's,  but  we  didn't  take  no  contract  to  tackle  a  rainbow  or  a 
rory  borealis." 

On  one  occasion  in  the  latter  part  of  September,  1862,  during 
General  Bragg's  occupation  of  Kentucky,  I  experienced  a  sur 
prise  stranger  than  ever  happened  to  me  before  or  afterward.  I 
was  on  my  way  from  Cynthiana  to  Lexington,  and  was  riding 
with  a  single  companion  —  Sam  Murrell,  my  chief  of  couriers 
—  along  the  turnpike,  then  an  almost  unequalled  road,  which 
extends  between  the  two  towns,  when  the  incident  occurred. 

About  four,  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  we  had  reached  a  point, 
about  five  miles  from  Lexington,  whence  the  pike  stretched 
straight  in  front  of  us  for  perhaps  six  or  seven  hundred  yards, 
running  between  two  beautiful  woodland  pastures.  I  was  well 
acquainted  with  the  region,  but  had  never  seen  it  look  so  lovely 
nor  had  I  ever  gazed  on  it  with  so  much  pleasure.  Under  the 
bright  sunlight  the  great  trees  reared  their  stately  trunks  and 
widely  branching  limbs  in  what  seemed  more  than  usual  majesty, 
and  the  dense  foliage  with  which  they  were  yet  clad,  stirred  by  a 
slight  breeze,  showed  every  shade  of  green.  So  far  as  I  could 
see  on  either  hand,  the  blue  grass,  still  retaining  despite  the  past 
summer's  heat  its  freshest  and  richest  hue,  gave  each  undulating 
hill  and  verdant  hollow  some  peculiar  charm.  The  white 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  173 

pike  appeared  in  the  slanting  sunbeams  like  a  broad  band  of 
silver.     The  whole  scene  glowed  with  beauty. 

As  we  rode  slowly  along  in  silent  contemplation  of  this  spec 
tacle,  a  gate,  about  two  hundred  yards  in  front  of  us,  and  opening 
upon  the  pike  from  the  woodland  upon  our  left,  swung  open  and 
the  figure,  seemingly,  of  a  very  large  man  mounted  on  a  very  big 
horse,  came  out  upon  the  road.  Neither  Murrell  nor  I  had  caught 
sight  of  this  horseman  previously  to  his  advent  through  the 
gate,  and  we  could  not  understand  how,  in  the  open  glades  of  the 
pasture,  he  could  have  escaped  our  observation.  His  sudden 
and  unexpected  appearance,  therefore,  seemed  rather  mysterious, 
and  attracted  an  attention  we  might  not  otherwise  have  given 
him.  He  wore  a  slouched  black  hat,  and  a  short  jacket,  the  colour 
of  which  we  could  not  discern;  and,  as  he  sat  on  his  horse  in  erect 
and  military  fashion,  and  was  alert  and  confident  in  bearing,  we 
took  him  to  be  a  soldier,  probably  a  Confederate  cavalry 
man.  His  conduct,  however,  soon  induced  us  to  change  this 
opinion,  and  suspect  him  of  being  a  Yankee,  and  perhaps 
a  spy. 

He  halted  for  a  moment,  after  coming  fairly  in  view,  as  if 
undetermined  in  which  direction  to  proceed,  and  then,  apparently 
alarmed  at  seeing  us,  made  off  up  the  road  at  top  speed.  We 
had  watched  him  closely,  and  when  he  thus  took  flight,  of  course 
we  gave  chase.  Having  swift  horses,  we  rapidly  gained  on  him, 
but  neither  our  calls  to  him  to  stop  nor  our  threats  to  shoot  if  he 
did  not  had  any  effect.  He  neither  checked  his  speed  in  the 
least  nor  even  turned  his  head.  We  had  drawn  our  pistols 
and  in  a  few  moments  more  might  have  fired,  when  what  seemed 
a  marvellous  transformation  happened.  We  had  gotten  within 
fifty  or  sixty  feet  of  him,  when  suddenly,  in  the  twinkling  of  an 
eye,  man  and  horse,  which  had  appeared  just  before  of  colossal 
size,  dwindled  to  the  dimensions  of  a  boy  of  fifteen,  and  a  black 
pony,  a  little  larger  than  a  Shetland.  Some  curious  mirage 
effect  of  sun  or  atmosphere  had  wrought  the  previous  decep 
tion.  We  stared  in  astonishment  and  could  scarcely  be 
lieve  our  eyes.  When  the  little  fellow  —  he  was  one  of  the  hand 
somest  boys  I  had  ever  seen  —  looked  up  at  me  with  a  frank, 
happy  smile,  perfectly  fearless  although  confronted  by  two  armed 
strangers,  I  felt  really  abashed.  I  glanced  at  the  pistol  I  was 


174  REMINISCENCES  OF 

holding  with  a  sensation  of  shame,  succeeded  by  one  of  horror  as 
I  reflected  that  I  might  have  fired  upon  him. 

"Bub,"  I  said,  "why  did  you  run  away  when  you  saw  us?" 

"Oh,  I  didn't  see  you  or  think  about  you  at  all,"  he  replied. 
"I  always  run  Mollie"  —  that  was  the  pony's  name  —  "up 
this  stretch  of  pike 'when  I'm  coming  home  from  school." 

His  face  seemed  familiar,  although  I  was  confident  that  I  had 
never  before  seen  him.  But  Murrell,  who  had  been  regarding 
him  intently,  asked:  "Are  you  not  a  brother  of  Capt.  John 
B.  Castleman?" 

"Yes,"  he  said,  "I'm  his  youngest  brother.  My  name's 
George,  and  I'm  going  to  join  his  company." 

He  was  as  good  as  his  word.  His  three  brothers  were  in  the 
Confederate  army,  two  of  them  in  the  Second  Kentucky  Cavalry, 
which  I  then  commanded.  He  was  the  youngest  child  and  his 
mother's  darling,  but  sore  as  was  the  trial  she  had  to  let  him  go. 
She  knew  that  it  was  merely  a  matter  of  time  —  his  going  to  the 
army  —  and  thought  it  best  that  he  should  go  in  the  care  of  his 
brothers.  So  in  a  few  days  he,  too,  was  enlisted  in  the  Second 
Kentucky  and  a  member  of  his  brother  John's  company.  He 
immediately  became  a  great  favourite  in  the  regiment,  and 
especially  so  with  Lieut.-Col.  John  B.  Hutchinson,  who  had 
detailed  him  as  his  orderly.  George's  duties  in  this  exalted  station, 
however,  were  merely  nominal,  for  Hutchinson's  big,  good- 
humoured  darky  servant  obeyed  with  alacrity  his  master's 
orders  to  pay  especial  attention  to  the  comfort  of  the  "orderly." 

In  the  subsequent  retreat  from  Kentucky  I  had  another 
encounter  with  him,  less  startling  but  more  amusing  than  our 
first  meeting.  On  the  afternoon  of  October  24th,  Morgan's 
command  encamped  at  Greenville,  in  western  Kentucky,  and 
during  the  night  there  was  a  heavy  fall  of  snow.  The  men  were 
not  provided  with  tents,  but  were,  at  that  time,  well  supplied 
with  blankets  and  gum  cloths,  and  wrapping  themselves  well 
in  these  were  as  comfortable  as  they  would  have  been  under 
shelter.  Indeed,  so  protected,  the  covering  of  snow  only  made 
them  sleep  the  warmer.  I  was  then  suffering  from  a  severe  cold 
and  threatened  with  pneumonia,  and  by  the  surgeon's  advice 
had  slept  in  a  house  instead  of  in  camp.  I  rode  out  early  in 
the  morning  to  the  camp  of  the  Second  Kentucky,  and  had  some 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  175 

difficulty  in  finding  any  one  except  the  camp  guards.  Inasmuch 
as  we  proposed  to  let  them  rest  that  day,  the  men  had  not  yet 
arisen,  and  the  level  field  in  which  they  were  encamped  was 
marked  by  a  great  number  of  white  mounds,  under  each  of  which 
lay  one  or  more  sleepers.  The  field  really  looked  like  a  grave 
yard  enshrouded  with  snow. 

"Which  is  Colonel  Hutchinson's  mound?"  I  asked  of  one  of 
the  sentries,  after  having  admired  the  scene  for  a  few  minutes. 

"There  it  is,"  he  answered,  pointing  to  an  unusually  large 
one.  I  made  my  way  to  it  as  carefully  as  I  could  on  horseback, 
and  shouted  Hutchinson's  name  at  the  top  of  my  voice.  What 
followed  made  me  think  of  the  resurrection.  On  all  sides  and 
throughout  the  encampment  the  mounds  opened,  and  men  sprang 
up,  as  one  may  imagine  the  dead  will  rise  from  their  graves  on  the 
last  day.  Hutchinson  was  a  tall  and  extremely  powerful  man, 
and  he  loomed  up  bearing  George  in  his  arms,  as  easily  as  if  he 
were  an  infant.  It  seemed  to  me  that,  having  been  so  suddenly 
awakened,  he  thought  the  camp  was  attacked,  and  was  preparing 
to  at  least  secure  his  orderly  from  capture.  When  he 
recognized  me  he  burst  into  a  loud  shout  of  laughter  and  let  the 
boy  drop.  George  immediately  addressed  himself  to  me  with 
his  usual  courtesty. 

"I'm  glad  to  see  you  at  our  headquarters,  colonel,"  he  said; 
"but  we  can't  offer  you  much  of  a  breakfast  this  morning." 


CHAPTER  IX 

I  HAVE  always  believed  that  Gen.  John  C.  Breckin- 
ridge's  capacity  as  a  soldier  was  not  fully  appreciated 
by  his  Southern  countrymen,  much  as  they  loved  and 
respected  him,  and,  indeed,  by  none  save  those  who,  serving 
immediately  with  or  under  him,  had  the  best  opportunity  of 
correctly  estimating  it.  His  ability  as  a  statesman,  his  political 
astuteness,  and  extraordinary  power  as  an  orator  were  universally 
recognized  and  acknowledged,  and  it  may  be  because  of  that  - 
because  he  had  exhibited  so  conspicuously  the  talents  which 
make  a  man  eminent  and  distinguished  in  civil  affairs  —  that 
due  credit  was  not  given  him  for  the  talent  he  undoubtedly  had 
for  war.  At  any  rate,  while  his  reputation  in  the  Confederate 
army  was  good,  and  he  was  ranked  among  the  best  of  those  who 
held  high  but  subordinate  rank,  it  was  not  what  I  think  it  should 
have  been.  Nature  had  endowed  him  very  generously  in  all 
respects,  giving  him  an  unusually  handsome  and  commanding 
presence,  a  rare  and  most  persuasive  eloquence,  and  a  manner 
singularly  attractive.  With  extremely  brilliant  qualities,  he 
possessed  also  a  profound  sagacity  —  a  judgment  acute  and 
seldom  at  fault  in  any  matter  upon  which  he  was  adequately 
informed;  but  I  am  of  the  opinion,  as  were  many  others  who 
knew  him  intimately,  that  he  had  in  even  greater  degree  than 
those  mental  characteristics  for  which  he  is  best  remembered, 
the  military  aptitude  and  soldierly  instincts  which,  trained  and 
well  directed,  make  the  successful  captain. 

His  first  experience  of  military  life  was  in  the  war  with  Mexico, 
when  he  was  major  of  the  Third  Kentucky  Volunteer  Infantry. 
He  saw  very  little  service  in  that  war;  was,  I  believe,  in  no  battle, 
and,  if  such  campaigning  as  he  then  shared  contributed  in  any 
way  toward  making  him  the  great  soldier  he  afterward  became, 
such  educational  advantage  was  not  apparent. 

In  1860  he  was  the  choice  of  the  Southern  states  for  Presidential 
nominee,  and  he  firmly  believed,  after  he  had  accepted  this 

176 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  177 

distinction  and  the  confidence  they  had  given  him,  that  his  best 
efforts  and  his  life,  if  need  be,  must  be  devoted  to  their  people. 
In  October,  1861,  he  announced  his  resignation  of  the  seat  he 
held  in  the  United  States  Senate,  and  declared  that  he  would 
irrevocably  unite  his  fortunes  with  those  of  the  Confederacy.  His 
previous  prominence  and  extreme  popularity,  not  only  with 
the  Kentuckians,  but  with  the  entire  Southern  soldiery  and  the 
Southern  people,  of  course,  claimed  recognition,  and  he  was 
immediately  commissioned  a  brigadier-general.  His  record 
thenceforth  and  during  the  entire  period  of  the  war,  when  his 
opportunities  and  the  character  of  the  service  to  which 
he  was  assigned  are  considered,  are  surpassed  only  by  that  of 
the  men  who  are  ranked  at  the  very  summit  of  Confederate 
effort  and  achievement. 

He  commanded  the  reserve  at  Shiloh,  a  post  'of  great  impor 
tance  and  responsibility.  In  that  hot  and  rapidly  conducted 
battle  the  reserve  ^as  soon  called  out,  and  Breckinridge's  division 
was  in  action  and  engaged  in  fierce  combat  as  early  as  twelve 
o'clock  of  the  first  day.  During  the  rest  of  the  battle  it  was 
constantly  and  actively  employed  upon  the  front,  and  when  the 
army  withdrew  toward  Corinth  covered  its  retreat. 

This  was  the  first  real  battle  which  General  Breckinridge  had 
ever  witnessed,  but  his  conduct  was  like  that  of  a  veteran, 
and  he  received  from  his  superiors  the  highest  commendation. 
Very  soon  afterward,  on  the  I4th  of  April,  1862,  he  was  made  a 
major-general. 

In  the  following  June  he  was  ordered  with  his  division  to  Vicks- 
burg,  won  the  fight  at  Baton  Rouge,  and  occupied  Port  Hudson. 
His  assignment  to  duty  in  Mississippi  at  this  period  prevented 
his  accompanying  the  Army  of  Tennessee  into  Kentucky  when 
Bragg  entered  the  state  in  September,  1862;  and  when  his 
presence  and  influence  with  the  people,  and  doubtless,  too,  his 
a-dvice,  would  have  greatly  benefited  the  Confederate  cause. 
Returning  to  Tennessee  with  the  troops  he  had  taken  to  Vicks- 
burg,  he  arrived  at  Murfreesboro  at  a  critical  moment.  Bragg  had 
commenced  his  retreat  from  Kentucky,  marching  out  through 
Cumberland  Gap.  It  was  his  purpose  to  reach  and  occupy  the 
fertile  region  of  middle  Tennessee.  The  Federal  army  was 


178  REMINISCENCES  OF 

pressing  southward  with  all  speed  through  Kentucky,  having 
the  same  objective  in  view.  A  great  strategic  game  was  being 
played,  and  for  an  important  stake.  The  first  of  the  two  hosts 
which  attained  the  goal  in  force  would  win.  If  Bragg  should  be 
first  upon  the  ground,  he  could  overcome  the  garrison  of  eight  or 
ten  thousand  men  left  at  Nashville  when  Buell  had  followed  him 
into  Kentucky,  capture  that  city,  and  recover  much  of  the  ter 
ritory  evacuated  after  the  disaster  of  Fort  Donelson. 

If,  on  the  contrary,  his  opponent  should  anticipate  him,  not 
only  would  Nashville  remain  in  Federal  possession,  but  the 
Federal  army,  if  promptly  massed,  might  prevent  Confederate 
entrance  into  any  part  of  the  coveted  territory  and  shut  Bragg 
up  in  east  Tennessee.  The  Federal  army  was  moving  by  the 
shorter  route,  and  was  much  better  provided  with  trans 
portation.  It  marched  with  celerity,  while  the  progress  of 
the  Confederates  through  the  rugged  country  which  they 
were  compelled  to  traverse  was  necessarily  dilatory.  At 
any  rate  Rosecrans  reached  Nashville  —  or  the  head  of  his 
column  arrived  there  —  while  Bragg  was  yet  far  to  the  east. 
There  can  be  no  doubt  that  Breckinridge's  presence  at  Mur- 
freesboro  prevented  an  immediate  Federal  advance  to  that 
point.  The  force  under  his  command  was  scarcely  four  thou 
sand  strong;  but  he  handled  it  so  boldly  and  skilfully  that  the 
enemy  was  impressed  with  the  idea  that  caution  was  necessary, 
and  made  little  progress  beyond  Nashville,  giving  Bragg  op 
portunity  to  reach  Murfreesboro  and  occupy  the  adjacent 
territory. 

General  Breckinridge's  name  will  always  be  associated  with  the 
battle  of  Murfreesboro  because  of  the  charge  made  there  by  his 
division.  It  was  unsuccessful,  for  the  position  attacked  was 
exceedingly  strong  and  defended  by  a  much  larger  number  of 
the  enemy.  Nor  was  his  assault  supported  by  a  demonstration 
upon  any  other  part  of  the  Confederate  line.  It  was  made 
with  the  utmost  gallantry  upon  the  part  of  his  troops,  and  with 
heavy  loss  in  killed  and  wounded. 

At  the  battle  of  Chickamauga,  Breckinridge's  division  was 
in  the  army  corps  commanded  by  D.  H.  Hill,  and  was  very  hotly 
engaged,  especially  on  the  morning  of  September  2Oth,  the  second 
day  of  the  battle.  He  succeeded  General  Hill  in  command  of 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  179 

the  corps,  and  served  in  that  capacity  at  Missionary  Ridge. 
He  had  previously  been  sent  to  Chickamauga  to  reinforce  the 
troops  with  which  Gen.  Joseph  E.  Johnston  was  operating  in 
Mississippi,  seeking  to  relieve  Vicksburg,  and  repelled  the  Federal 
attack  at  Jackson.  In  May,  1864,  he  was  transferred  to  Vir 
ginia,  won  the  battle  of  New  Market,  took  part  in  the  battle  of 
Cold  Harbor,  where  he  served  immediately  under  the  eye  of 
General  Lee,  cooperated  with  General  Early  in  driving  Hunter 
from  the  Shenandoah  Valley,  and  made  the  campaign  in  Mary 
land,  successfully  fighting  the  battle  of  Monocacy.  No  officer 
in  the  Confederate  army,  perhaps,  experienced  a  service  more 
varied  or  extending  over  a  wider  extent  of  territory,  and  very 
few  witnessed  and  participated  in  fiercer  conflicts;  but  in  this 
war  upon  a  large  scale  no  opportunity  was  offered  him  for  inde 
pendent  command,  and  to  exhibit  the  qualities  which  so  well 
fitted  him  for  it.  It  was  in  minor  and  apparently  less  important 
operations  that  such  chance  was  afforded  him,  and  I  shall  en 
deavour  to  justify  the  opinion  I  have  expressed  of  his  unusual 
capacity  by  reference  to  some  of  those  in  which  I  believe  he 
displayed  it. 

The  capture  of  New  Orleans,  the  fall  of  Memphis  and  the 
evacuation  of  Fort  Pillow  seemed  to  open  the  way  for  the  co 
operation  of  the  Federal  fleets  upon  both  the  lower  and  upper 
Mississippi,  and  the  Federal  authorities  were  preparing  vigor 
ously  to  prosecute  plans  for  the  control  of  the  great  river  through 
its  entire  length.  The  consummation  of  such  purpose  would 
necessarily  be  detrimental  in  the  extreme  to  the  Confederacy 
in  many  respects.  All  communication  would  be  permanently 
severed  between  Confederate  territory  situated  respectively 
on  the  eastern  and  western  banks  of  the  river,  and  the  invasion 
of  each  facilitated.  Vicksburg  was  the  only  point  on  the  Miss 
issippi  of  strategic  importance  —  the  only  one,  indeed,  where 
preparations  to  obstruct  the  passage  of  armed  hostile  flotillas 
had  been  made  —  yet  remaining  in  Confederate  possession.  It 
was  strongly  fortified,  and  troops  were  hurried  to  its  defence. 
Gen.  Earl  van  Dorn  assumed  command  there  and  of  the  de 
partment  on  June  27,  1862. 

The  siege  of  the  place  had  already  begun  and  it  was  threatened 
by  a  strong  army  and  formidable  fleet. 


i8o  REMINISCENCES  OF 

But  it  was  apparent  that  if  safe  and  easy  communication  — 
or,  indeed,  any  at  all  —  was  to  be  maintained  between  the  Con 
federate  forces  occupying  the  territory  upon  both  sides  of  the 
river,  some  other  point  besides  Vicksburg  and  lower  down,  must 
also  be  held  and  fortified,  in  order  that  a  sufficient  distance 
should  be  protected  from  the  patrolling  Federal  gunboats  and 
kept  free  for  Confederate  use.  It  was  likewise  very  important 
to  maintain  control  of  the  navigation  of  Red  river,  and  prevent 
molestation  of  craft  plying  between  ports  on  that  stream  and 
Vicksburg,  because  Van  Dorn  expected  to  procure  supplies  for 
the  garrison  chiefly  from  that  region. 

Baton  Rouge  had  been  occupied  by  a  Federal  force  sent 
from  New  Orleans  and  variously  estimated  as  being  from 
thirty-five  hundred  to  five  thousand  strong.  It  was  ac 
companied  by  a  small  flotilla  of  gun-boats.  This  advance 
to  Baton  Rouge  was  not  only  a  menace  to  Vicksburg, 
but,  inasmuch  as  the  town  is  no  great  distance  from  the 
mouth  of  the  Red  river,  it  threatened  serious  danger  to  the 
Confederate  use  of  that  stream  as  well  as  to  the  proposed  estab 
lishment  of  the  additional  fortress  intended  to  hold  the  Federal 
fleets  in  check.  General  van  Dorn  therefore  promptly  deter 
mined  to  drive  back  the  troops  already  at  Baton  Rouge,  before 
they  were  reinforced,  and  immediately  thereafter  occupy  and 
fortify  Port  Hudson  in  accordance  with  the  plan  previously 
mentioned.  General  Breckinridge  had  been  sent  to  Mississippi 
with  his  division  shortly  after  the  battle  of  Shiloh,  and  was  at 
Vicksburg  when  General  van  Dorn  resolved  to  attack  the  troops 
at  Baton  Rouge,  and  he  was  selected  to  command  the  expedition. 

He  began  his  march  on  the  27th  of  July,  "with,"  he  states  in 
his  report,  "somewhat  less  than  four  thousand  men,"  and  pro 
ceeded  by  rail  to  Tangipahva,  fifty-five  miles  from  Baton  Rouge. 
He  arrived  at  the  Comite  River,  ten  miles  from  Baton  Rouge, 
on  the  4th  of  August;  and  leaving  camp  at  eleven  o'clock  that 
night,  reached  the  vicinity  of  the  enemy  at  daybreak  the  next 
morning,  August  5th.  By  sickness  and  the  casualties  of  his  very 
severe  march,  the  force  with  which  he  started  had  been  greatly 
depleted,  and  he  went  into  action  with  an  effective  strength  of 
only  twenty-six  hundred  men.  He  had  two  batteries  of  artillery, 
Cobb's  and  Hudson's. 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  181 

The  Federal  force  consisted  of  six  regiments  of  infantry  — 
Fourteenth  Maine,  Seventh  Vermont,  Ninth  Connecticut, 
Twenty-first  Indiana,  Fourth  Wisconsin,  and  Sixth  Michigan, 
one  company  of  cavalry,  and  three  batteries  of  artillery. 

General  Breckinridge,  anticipating  that  he  would  be  numeri 
cally  inferior  to  his  antagonist  at  the  moment  of  encounter,  had 
stipulated  that  the  Confederate  ram,  Arkansas,  should  be  sent 
to  cooperate  with  him,  and,  by  engaging  the  three  gun-boats 
relieve  him  of  their  fire. 

Directions  to  this  effect  were  given,  but  the  machinery  of  the 
Arkansas  became  in  some  way  disabled.  She  failed  to  reach 
Baton  Rouge,  and  was  burned  by  her  crew  to  prevent  her  falling 
into  the  hands  of  the  enemy.  General  Breckinridge  attacked 
in  a  single  line  with  reserves  at  intervals.  The  enemy  received 
this  onset  in  two  lines,  effectively  aided  by  the  three  batteries. 
The  fighting  was  hot,  close,  and  stubborn.  The  Confederates 
made  several  assaults  before  they  were  successful,  but  at  length 
drove  the  enemy  out  of  their  encampments  and  completely 
from  the  field.  Gen.  Benjamin  Butler,  writing  a  report  of 
this  battle,  to  which  he  was  no  nearer  than  New  Orleans,  claims 
that  Breckinridge  was  repulsed  —  a  curious  statement  to  make 
when  he  admits  that  the  Federals  were  forced  to  leave  the  ground 
and  abandon  their  camps  to  the  Confederates.  General  Breck 
inridge  remained  in  possession  of  the  field  for  some  hours  after 
the  conclusion  of  the  fight,  and  then  fell  back  one  mile  to  obtain 
water,  his  men  having  had  none  since  leaving  the  Comite  River 
on  the  previous  night.  The  absence  of  the  Arkansas  also  con 
tributed  to  prevent  his  pursuing  his  victory,  as  his  troops  had 
suffered  severely  from  the  fire'of  the  fleet  in  the  latter  part  of  the 
engagement.  He  destroyed  the  tents  and  camp  equipage,  and, 
lacking  transportation  for  their  removal,  the  greater  part  of  the 
captured  stores.  The  Confederate  loss  in  killed  and  wounded 
was  four  hundred  and  sixty-seven,  that  of  the  Federals  three 
hundred  and  eighty- three.  Many  officers  fell.  The  Federals 
lost  one  general  officer  killed,  General  Williams,  and  two  Confed- 
rate  generals,  Helm  and  Clark,  were  wounded. 

The  enemy  retreated  from  Baton  Rouge  to  New  Orleans,  and 
within  two  or  three  days  after  the  battle  General  Breckinridge 
occupied  Port  Hudson,  which  was  subsequently  rendered  almost 


1 82  REMINISCENCES  OF 

as  strong  a  fortified  place  as  Vicksburg.  The  objects  of  the 
expedition  were  completely  carried  out. 

In  February,  1864,  General  Breckinridge  was  assigned  to  the 
command  of  the  Department  of  South-western  Virginia.  A  very 
extensive  territory  was  included  in  this  department,  the  possess 
ion  and  use  of  which  was  of  extreme  importance  to  the  Con 
federacy,  not  only  because  it  still  furnished  supplies  to  the  Army 
of  Northern  Virginia,  but  because,  and  especially  after  the  oc 
cupation  of  east  Tennessee  by  the  Federals,  its  maintenance  was 
essential  to  the  protection  of  Richmond  upon  that  flank.  If 
it,  in  turn,  passed  into  the  possession  of  the  enemy,  it  wpuld  be 
impossible  for  General  Lee's  army  to  hold  the  ground,  the 
defence  of  which  was  so  vital.  The  department  was  very 
vulnerable  and  accessible  to  attack  from  many  directions.  Col.  J. 
Stoddard  Johnston  says  in  the  "Confederate  Military  History," 
Vol.  IX.,  Kentucky:  "It  had  been  the  graveyard  of  Confederate 
generals  as  far  as  their  reputations  were  concerned,  owing  to  the 
fact  that,  with  a  front  of  nearly  three  hundred  miles  open  to 
invasions  of  the  enemy  by  routes  impossible  to  guard,  whenever 
it  was  invaded,  blame  fell  upon  the  commanding  general  and  his 
prestige  was  destroyed.  It  came  near  being  the  ruin  of  General 
Lee,  while  Floyd,  Loring,  and  a  number  of  others  were  in  turn 
retired  and  their  future  usefulness  destroyed. " 

General  Breckinridge  experienced  in  full  measure  the  perils 
and  difficulties  of  this  ardous  position,  but  he  came  out  of  the 
ordeal  with  increased  reputation.  While  strict  watch  and  ward 
was  necessary  throughout  the  whole  department,  it  was  of 
chief  importance  to  protect  the  lead  mines  in  Wythe  County, 
whence  came  the  principal  supply  of  that  article  for  the  armies 
of  the  Confederacy,  and  the  salt  works  at  Saltville,  which  fur 
nished  salt  for  the  entire  South,  east  of  the  Mississippi. 

On  May  5th,  and  when  he  was  threatened  with  a  hostile  dem 
onstration  from  the  Kanawha  Valley,  General  Breckinridge 
received  a  despatch  from  General  Lee,  informing  him  that  a 
strong  force  under  Siegel  was  marching  to  break  the  line  of  rail 
road  connecting  the  department  with  Richmond.  Siegel  was 
moving  up  the  Shenandoah  Valley,  and  his  objective  point  was 
supposed  to  be  Staunton.  General  Lee  therefore,  directed  Breck 
inridge  to  proceed  immediately  with  all  the  troops  he  could  muster 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  183 

to  the  defence  of  that  place.  Breckinridge  moved  forth  with 
two  brigades  of  infantry,  making  a  long  and  toilsome  march 
over  a  mountainous  region  and  arriving  at  Staunton  on  May  I  ith. 
He  called  out  the  militia  reserves  of  Augusta  County,  a  small  and 
not  very  effective  auxiliary  detachment;  and  also  summoned 
into  the  field  a  body  of  soldiers,  of  whom  no  one  until  then  had 
expected  actual  service,  but  by  whom  it  was  rendered  not  only 
as  gallantly,  but  as  efficiently,  as  picked  veterans- of  the  Army 
of  Northern  Virginia  could  have  performed  the  same  work.  This 
was  the  cadet  corps  of  the  Virginia  Military  Institute,  a  bat 
talion  two  hundred  and  twenty-five  strong,  composed  of  boys 
from  fourteen  to  sixteen  years  of  age. 

It  was  supposed,  and  perhaps  such  was  General  Lee's  expec 
tation,  that  Breckinridge  would  await  Siegel  at  Staunton,  and 
having  fortified  as  well  as  he  could,  endeavour  to  repulse  him 
there.  But  with  the  true  military  instinct,  he  determined  to  press 
upon  his  enemy  with  all  possible  celerity  and  obtain  the  double  ad 
vantage  of  attack  and  surprise.  The  fact  that  Siegel  outnumbered 
him  nearly  two  to  one,  confirmed  him  in  this  resolution;  for  he 
felt  that  he  must  meet  numerical  superiority  with  moral  effect, 
encourage  his  own  troops  by  a  bold  offensive  and  impress 
his  adversary  with  exaggerated  ideas  of  his  strength.  Accord 
ingly,  on  the  1 3th,  he  led  his  little  army,  in  all  thirty-five  hundred 
or  thirty-six  hundred  strong,  to  meet  Siegel  who  was  advancing, 
and  some  forty  or  fifty  miles  distant.  On  the  evening  of  the 
I4th,  when  within  nine  miles  of  New  Market,  he  learned  that 
Siegel  was  encamped  in  the  vicinity  of  that  place.  The  suc 
ceeding  night  was  stormy,  but  he  moved  at  one  o'clock,  and  at 
daylight  reached  New  Market,  on  the  southern  side  of  the  town. 
It  was  Sunday,  May  I5th,  when  he  formed  for  battle,  and  his  line 
was  in  motion  little  more  than  a  mile  from  Siegel's  camp  before 
the  latter  knew  of  his  presence  or  that  any  formidable  force  had 
been  interposed  between  him  and  the  object  of  his  expedition. 
Siegel,  who  had  earned,  by  the  rapidity  of  his  movements,  the 
sobriquet  of  "The  Flying  Dutchman,"  had  been  outmarched, 
and  was  already  half  beaten. 

Attacking  with  vigour  and  immediately,  Breckinridge  drove 
his  opponent  from  the  inception  of  the  battle,  and  by  noon 
Siegel  had  fallen  back  some  distance  beyond  New  Market.  He 


184  REMINISCENCES  OF 

then  assumed  a  position  of  considerable  strength  on  the  crest 
of  a  hill,  the  approach  to  which  was  over  gently  sloping  and 
entirely  open  ground,  where  the  attacking  troops  were  perfectly 
exposed  to  his  fire.  But  the  Confederate  onset  was  resistless. 
Breckinridge,  wishing  to  speedily  utilize  his  entire  force,  which, 
as  I  have  said,  was  greatly  inferior  numerically  to  that  of  the 
enemy,  formed  only  one  line  with  no  reserve.  His  flanks, 
however,  were  well  protected,  the  right  by  a  morass  and  the 
left  by  the  steep  bank  of  the  Shenandoah.  He  was  enabled  to 
select  an  excellent  position  for  his  artillery,  which,  although  a 
little  in  front  of  his  line  before  it  advanced,  was  safe,  and  with 
the  guns  so  placed,  opened  the  battle  effectively. 

General  Breckinridge  was  naturally  reluctant  to  permit  the 
cadets  to  go  into  action,  and  proposed  to  employ  them  as  a 
guard  for  his  train.  But  the  brave  little  fellows  would  listen 
with  no  patience  to  any  disposition  which  might  keep  them  out 
of  the  fight  and  their  expostulations  finally  overcame  the  reso 
lution  of  their  commander.  He  consented  to  let  them  "go  in" 
and  gave  them  the  post  of  honour,  placing  them  in  the  centre 
between  the  two  brigades,  and  directed  the  entire  line  to  dress 
on  them.  Not  only  did  their  splendid  drill  and  discipline  justify 
this  compliment,  but  no  troops  ever  behaved  with  calmer  or  more 
daring  courage.  The  fire  from  the  ten  pieces  of  Confederate 
artillery  not  only  shook  Siegel's  first  line,  but  threw  his  second 
line  and  reserves  into  confusion.  He  attempted  to  remedy  this 
disorder  by  using  his  cavalry,  but  it  was  easily  repulsed.  The 
Confederate  advance,  although  made  under  a  heavy  and  scathing 
fire,  was  spirited  and  rapid,  and  was  never  checked.  SiegePs 
entire  array  went  to  pieces  under  the  first  assault,  and  fled 
from  the  field, leaving  three  or  four  hundred  prisoners  in  the  hands 
of  the  Confederates.  He  crossed  a  stream,  a  few  miles  from  the 
battle  field,  and,  burning  the  bridge,  effectually  prevented  pur 
suit.  He  continued  his  retreat  without  a  halt  to  the  Federal 
lines.  The  loss  upon  the  Confederate  side  was  not  severe,  but 
fell  more  heavily  on  the  cadets,  in  proportion  to  their  numbers, 
than  on  the  other  troops  engaged. 

By  this  victory,  General  Breckinridge  saved  not  only  the  de 
partment  he  was  commanding,  but  the  Army  of  Northern  Virginia 
from  a  grave  disaster. 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  185 

After  the  battle  of  New  Market,  General  Breckinridge  was 
ordered  to  the  Army  of  Northern  Virginia,  serving  with  that 
army  first  about  Richmond  and  then  in  a  command  of  a  corps 
under  Early  until  the  later  part  of  September,  1864,  when  he 
was  again  assigned  to  the  command  of  the  Department  of  South 
western  Virginia.  He  had  barely  reached  Abingdon,  where  the 
headquarters  of  the  department  were  made,  when  he  was  com 
pelled  to  strain  to  the  utmost  every  means  at  his  disposal  to 
repel  one  of  the  most  formidable  incursions  ever  attempted 
into  that  territory.  Burbridge  was  advancing  with  a  strong 
column  from  Kentucky,  while  Generals  Gillem  and  Ammen 
simultaneously  advanced  from  east  Tennessee.  Either  attack 
ing  force  considerably  exceeded  in  numerical  strength  the 
total  number  of  troops  which  General  Breckinridge  could  as 
semble  for  defence.  The  opportune  arrival,  however,  almost 
at  the  moment  of  encounter,  of  Gen.  John  S.  Williams,  with 
twenty-five  hundred  men,  enabled  so  strong  a  resistance  to  be 
offered  by  the  Confederates  that  the  enemy  was  compelled  to 
retreat  without  accomplishing  any  success  or  doing  damage  to 
either  the  salt  works  or  the  lead  mines,  and  a  severe  defeat  was 
inflicted  upon  him  at  Saltville. 

But  it  seemed  fated  that  this  department  should  have  no 
respite  and  should  be  constantly  in  danger.  General  Williams 
had  entered  on  his  return  from  a  raid  into  Tennessee,  made  with 
General  Wheeler's  corps,  and  the  troops  he  brought  with  him, 
and  which  had  chiefly  contributed  to  the  victory  at  Saltville, 
were  required  immediately  afterward  to  rejoin  the  command  to 
which  they  properly  belonged.  Of  the  troops  regularly  as 
signed  to  the  defence  of  the  department,  two  brigades,  Giltner's 
and  Cosby's,  had  been  ordered,  just  after  the  repulse  of  Bur- 
bridge,  to  the  Valley  of  Virginia.  General  Breckinridge  could 
muster,  after  these  detachments  had  been  made,  only  two 
brigades  of  cavalry.  Vaughn's  and  Duke's,  one  small  brigade 
of  infantry  —  North  Carolina  reserves  —  some  five  hundred 
dismounted  men  and  convalescents  from  various  commands 
and  ten  or  twelve  pieces  of  artillery.  His  total  strength  was 
about  twenty-eight  hundred  men  for  the  defence  of  a  department 
threatened  upon  all  sides. 

In  November  information  was  received   that  Burbridge  and 


1 86  REMINISCENCES  OF 

Stoneman  were  preparing  to  again  attack  from  Kentucky,  with, 
perhaps,  larger  forces  than  had  taken  part  in  the  invasion  of  the 
preceding  month,  and  the  enemy  in  east  Tennessee  assumed  the 
offensive  very  actively.  General  Vaughn,  supported  by  Palmer's 
infantry  brigade  —  North  Carolina  reserves  —  was  attacked  by 
General  Gillem  near.  Russellville  and  defeated,  with  the  loss  of 
four  or  five  guns. 

It  was  necessary  to  retrieve  this  disaster,  and  important  to 
cripple,  if  possible,  the  Federal  forces  in  east  Tennessee  before 
those  coming  from  Kentucky  made  their  appearance.  Leaving, 
therefore,  only  a  few  scouts  and  picket  guards  at  other  points, 
General  Breckinridge  moved  with  every  available  man  to  attack 
Gillem  at  Bull's  Gap,  where  the  latter  had  established  himself 
after  his  defeat  of  Vaughn. 

The  roads  were  in  very  bad  condition,  and  as  the  dismounted 
men  and  the  artillery,  Page's  battery  of  six  pieces,  were  required 
to  march  eighty  or  ninety  miles  to  the  objective  point,  several 
days  elapsed  before  the  entire  force  was  concentrated.  All, 
however,  except  the  infantry  brigade,  were  in  front  of  the  enemy's 
position  late  on  the  afternoon  of  the  24th  of  November.  General 
Vaughn's  brigade  was  sent  to  the  rear  of  Bull's  Gap,  and  other 
troops  which  had  arrived  were  posted  in  front.  My  brigade  was 
hotly  engaged  with  the  enemy,  who  came  out  in  pretty  strong 
force  to  reconnoitre,  until  some  time  after  night  had  fallen,  and 
all  of  the  troops  bivouacked  in  line.  General  Breckinridge  had 
made  up  his  mind  to  attack  at  daybreak  the  next  morning,  and 
his  determination  to  do  so  was  not  altered  by  the  fact  that  the 
infantry  had  not  even  then  arrived.  It  was  a  resolution  audacious 
almost  to  rashness,  for  the  position  was  very  strong  and  the 
enemy  outnumbered  us  by  at  least  five  hundred  men. 

Vaughn,  whose  brigade  was  about  one  thousand  strong,  was 
ordered  to  attack  the  position  in  the  rear.  Col.  George 
Crittenden  with  the  artillery,  supported  by  about  two  hundred 
men,  was  instructed  to  make  a  demonstration  directly  in  front 
of  the  gap,  where  the  railroad  enters  it,  and  he  did  so  with  such 
boldness  that  the  demonstration  was  well  nigh  equivalent  to 
an  attack.  Some  two  or  three  hundred  men  were  similarly 
employed  upon  the  left,  and  Breckinridge  hoped  that  Gillem's 
attention  would  be  diverted  from  the  right,  where  he  meant 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  187 

to  make  his  real  assault  and  endeavour  to  force  an  en 
trance. 

I  was  in  command  of  the  five  hundred  men  indicated  for  this 
purpose,  and,  having  to  make  a  considerable  detour  in  order  to 
reach  the  point  where  the  assault  was  to  be  delivered,  began  my 
march  while  it  was  yet  dark.  At  this  point  the  wide,  deep,  and 
precipitous  ravines,  which  on  this  side  skirt  the  hills  which  the 
Gap  penetrates,  are  crossed  by  two  spurs  or  ridges  connecting 
the  ground  held  by  the  enemy  with  that  upon  which  I  was 
approaching.  These  ridges  are  fifty  or  sixty  yards  in  width, 
some  two  hundred  and  fifty  yards  apart,  and  with  sides  going 
almost  sheer  downward.  General  Breckinridge  accompanied  my 
column  and  was  immediately  on  the  firing  line  during  the  suc 
ceeding  combat.  It  became  sufficiently  light  to  clearly  distin 
guish  objects  at  some  distance  when  we  had  gotten  within 
perhaps  a  quarter  of  a  mile  of  the  point  for  which  we  were 
making,  and  we  were  suddenly  aware  of  the  presence  of  two 
hundred  or  three  hundred  Federal  troops,  just  on  the 
opposite  brink  of  one  of  the  ravines,  and  which  was  eighty 
or  ninety  yards  wide.  We  were  marching  close  to  the  other 
side,  so  that  a  very  slight,  although  impassable  distance,  sepa 
rated  us.  The  temptation,  even  with  veteran  soldiers,  to  fire 
upon  an  enemy  so  near  at  hand  and  in  plain  sight,  is  almost 
irresistible;  yet  neither  Federals  nor  Confederates  yielded  to 
it.  We  knew  it  would  be  a  mere  waste  of  time  and  ammunition 
to  open  fire  then,  and  pressed  on  with  all  possible  speed  to  gain 
the  ridges  which  bridged  the  gulf.  The  other  fellows  evidently 
comprehended  our  object,  and  seemed  to  think  that  it  was  wiser 
to  hasten  there  and  assist  in  our  repulse  than  to  attempt  a  fight 
where  it  was  impossible  to  come  to  close  quarters.  So  we  moved 
along  on  the  different  sides  of  the  ravine  in  the  same  direction, 
Yanks  and  Johnny  Rebs  exchanging  gibes  and  taunts,  but  not 
a  single  shot. 

About  the  same  time  we  heard  Page's  guns  open  on  our  left 
and  the  fire  of  the  line  supporting  him,  answered  by  the  enemy's 
artillery  in  the  gap.  Earthworks  had  been  erected  across  the 
two  ridges  along  which  we  meant  to  attack,  and  in  the  rear  of 
each  a  fort  had  been  constructed  and  so  placed  that  the  fire 
from  the  two  or  three  pieces  mounted  in  each,  commanded  the 


1 88  REMINISCENCES  OF 

ridges  equally  with  the  musketry  fire  from  the  earthworks. 
Anticipating,  perhaps,  that  this  would  be  the  point  selected  for 
real  assault  the  position  was  strongly  manned,  and  as  we  reached 
it  was  reinforced  by  the  body  of  troops  which  had  escorted 
our  approach. 

As  quickly  as  possible,  I  disposed  my  command  for  attack. 
I  directed  Colonel  Ward,  with  a  part  of  the  men,  to  follow  the 
ridge  farther  to  the  right,  while  with  the  remainder  I  advanced 
upon  the  other.  We  each  pressed  forward  rapidly,  encounter 
ing  a  fire  from  both  small  arms  and  artillery,  which  completely 
swept  the  ground  and  was  very  severe  in  its  effect.  Colonel 
Ward  carried  the  work  on  the  ridge,  where  he  attacked,  but 
could  not  hold  it.  The  men  under  my  immediate  command  got 
within  thirty  or  forty  feet  of  the  other  works,  but  the  heavy  and 
concentrated  fire  then  checked  them.  We  remained,  renewing 
our  efforts,  for  an  hour,  but  without  avail.  The  enemy  seemed 
to  have  discovered  that  the  demonstrations  made  elsewhere  were 
not  serious,  or,  at  least,  dangerous;  and  massed  against  us.  I 
never  witnessed  a  more  perfect  exhibition  of  courage  and  reso 
lution  upon  the  part  of  troops  than  was  shown  by  those  I 
commanded  on  that  occasion,  or  more  conspicuous  examples  of 
personal  gallantry.  We  were  finally  obliged  to  retire,  with  a  loss 
of  nearly  one  third  the  entire  force  in  killed  and  wounded.  We 
came  back  leisurely,  bringing  off  our  wounded,  and  the  enemy 
attempted  no  pursuit.  All  of  the  other  troops  engaged  were,  of 
course,  also  withdrawn  and  concentrated  in  front  of,  that  is  to 
say,  south  of  the  gap. 

General  Breckinridge,  although  much  disappointed  by  this 
failure,  was  by  no  means  disheartened  or  inclined  to  abandon 
the  field  without  further  and  vigorous  effort.  The  arrival  that 
afternoon  of  the  infantry,  between  four  and  five  hundred  strong, 
under  Colonel  Palmer,  encouraged  him  to  immediately  renew 
the  offensive,  and  elated  the  other  commands  with  the  hope 
that  they  might  be  enabled  to  avenge  their  discomfiture  in  the 
morning.  It  was  decided  that  the  entire  force  should  at  once 
take  position  on  the  railroad  in  the  rear  of  Bull's  Gap  and  cut 
off  Gillem  from  communication  with  Knoxville  and  other  points 
in  east  Tennessee,  occupied  by  Federal  garrisons.  Breckinridge 
believed  that  this  would  oblige  Gillem  to  evacuate  his  strong 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  189 

position  in  the  Gap,  and  perhaps  force  him  to  accept  battle 
in  the  open.  Calling  in,  therefore,  all  outlying  detachments 
except  the  absolutely  necessary  scouting  parties,  he  marched 
at  ten  o'clock  that  night  through  Taylor's  Gap,  three  miles  west 
of  Bull's  Gap,  expecting  to  reach  his  destination  by  daylight. 

The  cavalry  commands  were  in  the  front  of  the  column,  the 
infantry,  dismounted  men,  and  artillery  bringing  up  the  rear. 

Just  as  our  advance  emerged  from  the  narrow  pass  we  had  trav 
ersed,  our  scouts  brought  the  information  that  Gillem  also  was 
moving;  he  had  quitted  his  fortified  post  in  the  gap  and  was 
marching  in  the  direction  of  Knoxville.  He  had  perhaps,  taken 
alarm  at  the  attack  made  on  that  day,  and,  aware  of  the  arrival 
of  our  infantry,  the  strength  of  which  he  no  doubt  exaggerated, 
feared  a  more  dangerous  assault  on  the  morrow.  This  was  wel 
come  news.  An  opportunity  was  offered  not  only  of  attacking 
the  enemy  in  the  open  field,  but  of  taking  him  in  flank  and  by 
surprise.  It  was  at  once  utilized.  The  two  cavalry  brigades 
dashed  forward  and  in  two  or  three  miles  came  upon  the  enemy 
at  Russellville,  striking  the  column  squarely  in  flank,  driving  it 
in  confusion,  and  cutting  off  one  regiment.  The  wagon  train  was 
in  front  and  desperate  efforts  were  made  to  protect  it.  Our 
infantry  was  never  able  to  get  sufficiently  near  to  take  part  in 
the  fight,  nor,  on  account  of  the  rapidity  of  the  action  and  pur 
suit,  could  our  artillery,  although  the  enemy  used  his  at  times 
with  some  effect.  The  combat  continued  for  several  hours,  a  suc 
cession  of  hot  encounters  and  retreats  upon  the  part  of  the  Feder 
als.  A  brilliant  moon  arose,  flooding  the  landscape  with  light  and 
plainly  showing  the  lines  of  the  combatants.  At  Morristown  the 
enemy  was  reinforced  by  a  fresh  regiment  brought  by  rail  and 
made  his  last  and  most  determined  stand.  When  this  was 
broken,  he  gave  way  in  complete  rout.  We  had  followed  and 
fought  him  until  five  o'clock  in  the  morning  for  nearly  twenty 
miles.  More  than  a  hundred  wagons  were  captured,  six  pieces  of 
artillery  and  many  prisoners. 

Gillem  halted  with  the  remnant  of  his  command  at  Straw 
berry  Plains,  and  taking  position  on  the  western  bank  of  the  river 
and  holding  the  long  railroad  bridge,  was  enabled  to  prevent  our 
crossing  for  two  or  three  days.  During  this  time  a  constant 
skirmish,  so  far  as  artillery  and  musketry  fire  across  the  stream 


igo  REMINISCENCES  OF 

might  be  so  termed,  was  kept  up,  and  then,  General  Breckinridge 
getting  a  part  of  his  command  over  the  river  by  a  distant  ford, 
so  alarmed  Gillem  that  he  retreated  to  Knoxville. 

General  Breckinridge's  crushing  defeat  and  rout  of  Gillem 
seemed,  for  a  short  time,  to  have  frustrated  cooperation  from 
east  Tennessee  with  the  movement  which  he  apprehended  from 
Kentucky,  and  to  have  completely  accomplished  to  that  extent 
the  plan  he  had  formed  for  the  defence  of  his  department.  But 
the  adverse  fortune  with  which  the  Confederacy  had  always  to 
contend  prevailed  in  this  instance  also.  Breckinridge  had  to 
deal  with  adversaries  vastly  his  superior  in  resources,  and  who 
could  bide  their  time.  Had  Burbridge  and  Stoneman  invaded 
South-western  Virginia  at  the  date  when,  according  to  credible 
information,  he  had  reason  to  expect  it,  he  could  have  met  them 
with  the  entire  force  at  his  disposal  without  concerning  himself 
about  foes  coming  from  any  other  quarter.  As  it  was  the  dan 
ger  was  only  delayed.  The  movement  from  Kentucky,  which 
we  had  anticipated  would  be  made  about  December  1st,  was 
postponed,  doubtless  because  of  the  repulse  of  the  east  Tennessee 
contingent,  until  the  middle  of  that  month.  By  that  date 
another  formidable  invading  force  had  been  organized  and 
was  pressed  in  from  east  Tennessee,  and  the  original  programme 
was  vigorously  conducted^  The  irruption  from  east  Tennessee 
came  with  such  celerity  that  General  Vaughn's  brigade  was 
cut  off,  and  Palmer's  brigade  of  infantry  could  not  be  gotten 
from  Asheville.  But  for  the  opportune  return  from  the  valley 
of  Cosby  and  Glitner,  Breckinridge  would  have  had  no  troops 
with  which  to  confront  Burbridge  and  Stoneman  except  my 
brigade  and  a  few  dismounted  men.  As  it  was  he  was  seeking 
to  oppose  more  than  seven  thousand  men  with  less  than  twelve 
hundred.  He  concentrated  at  Saltville  for  the  protection  of 
the  salt  works  there,  but  as  this  left  every  other  point  at  the  mercy 
of  the  enemy,  he  soon  resolved,  with  his  usual  daring,  to  come  out 
and  seek  battle.  He  met  the  full  force  of  the  enemy  at  Marion 
and  held  it  in  check  for  nearly  two  days',  retiring  unpursued  only 
after  the  Federals  had  ceased  to  attack.  This  was  one  of  the 
most  remarkable  combats  I  ever  witnessed,  and  it  seemed  al 
most  incredible  that  a  body  of  troops,  numerically  so  inferior 
to  their  antagonists  as  were  the  Confederates,  could  so  long  have 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  191 

withstood  their  assault  in  the  open  field;  for  the  Federal  onset 
was  determined  and  frequently  repeated,  and  the  fighting  was 
at  close  quarters.  In  front  of  one  part  of  our  line  which  I  was 
holding  with  less  than  three  hundred  men,  one  hundred  and 
eighty-seven  dead  bodies  were  counted  which  had  fallen  by 
our  fire. 

Notwithstanding  that  we  had  held  him  at  bay  at  Marion,  the 
greatly  numerical  superiority  of  the  enemy  enabled  him  to  send 
a  force  to  Saltville  sufficient  to  pverpower  the  very  scanty 
garrison  which  had  been  left  there,  and  capture  the  place.  He 
remained,  however,  only  a  day  or  two  and  did  no  serious  damage. 
The  weather  became  intensely  cold  and  this,  with  the  difficulty 
of  procuring  supplies,  hastened  the  return  of  the  Federal  forces 
to  Kentucky.  I  followed  them  with  a  small  detachment  to  the 
Kentucky  line,  a  little  more  than  fifty  miles  from  Saltville.  The 
suffering  among  the  men  of  my  command  was  severe,  but  not  to 
compare  with  that  which  the  Federal  soldiers  endured,  although 
they  were  very  much  better  clothed  and  equipped.  I  could  not 
have  imagined  anything  so  dreadful  as  I  witnessed  on  that  march, 
and  can  hardly  believe  that  the  most  terrible  scenes  of  the  re 
treat  from  Moscow  exceeded  its  horrors.  The  road  was  strewn 
with  rifles,  cartridge  boxes,  and  baggage  of  all  kinds,  abandoned 
by  the  enemy,  and  two  or  three  pieces  of  artillery,  with  their 
caissons,  had  been  burned.  But  the  really  horrid  and  painful 
sight  was  that  of  the  dead  or  disabled  men  and  horses.  Hun 
dreds  of  men  lay  along  the  road  side,  their  limbs  literally  rotted 
with  the  cold,  and  in  many  cases  amputation  had  been  at 
tempted  to  relieve,  but  had  only  aggravated,  their  agony.  The 
spectacle  exhibited  by  the  dead  and  dying  horses  almost  baffles 
description.  Maj.  W.  J.  Davis,  of  my  staff,  wrote  some  years 
ago  a  very  vivid  account  of  what  he  saw  on  this  march,  and  I 
reproduce  it  as  being  in  perfect  accord  with  my  own  recollection: 

"We  pursued.  As  we  ascended  the  steep  mountain  road 
leading  from  Saltville,  the  cold  intensified  so  as  to  .test  the  greatest 
power  of  endurance.  Men  beat  their  breasts  to  promote  a  more 
vigorous  circulation,  or,  dismounting,  limped  on  benumbed 
feet  beside  their  hobbling  horses.  The  necks,  breasts  and  fore 
legs  of  the  horses  were  covered  with  clinging  sheets  of  frozen 
breath  or  blood  that  had  oozed  from  the  fissures  in  their  swollen 


1 92  REMINISCENCES  OF 

nostrils.  Often  their  lips  were  sealed  by  the  frost  to  the  steel 
bits,  or  protruded  livid  and  rugged  with  icicles  of  blood.  Soon 
we  met  indications  of  the  still  greater  suffering  of  our  foes.  Horses 
dead  from  cold  were  seen  along  the  road,  frozen  stiff  in  every  im 
aginable  attitude;  some  leaned  against  the  perpendicular  cliff 
on  the  right,  with  legs  swollen  to  an  enormous  size  and  split 
open  to  the  bone  from  knee  to  hoof;  some  knelt  with  muzzles 
cemented  to  the  hard  earth  by  blood;  others  lay  prone  but  with 
heads  upraised.  I  saw  two  —  mates,  perhaps  —  which,  in  the 
agony  or  final  dissolution,  apparently  had  touched  lips  in 
mutual  osculation,  and  stood  with  their  mouths  glued  together 
by  the  killing  frost. 

"The  march  of  the  Federal  cavalry  was  marked  by  dead  horses. 
These  corpses  actually  impeded  our  pursuit;  sometimes  six  or 
eight  lay  in  one  heap;  once  I  counted  two  hundred  in  one  mile. 
.  .  .  You  may  think  the  sight  of  hundreds  of  horses,  dead, 
as  I  have  said,  horrible;  what  think  you  —  you  have  never  seen 
war,  but  have  read  of  its  'pomp  and  pride  and  circumstance,' 
and  perchance  have  glorified  the  butchery  of  it  —  what  think  you 
of  men  lying  on  bed  or  floor,  some  of  them  in  the  article  of  death, 
frozen,  as  were  their  dumb  beasts  by  the  roadside?  The  hands 
of  some  of  these  gallant  men  were  so  swollen  they  looked  like 
boxing  gloves,  and  they  were  cracked  with  bleeding  fissures  a 
quarter  of  an  inch  wide.  Their  legs,  from  which  pantaloons  had 
been  ripped,  looked  as  if  affected  by  elephantiasis;  their  feet, 
from  which  boots  had  been  cut,  were  a  shapeless  mass;  legs  and 
feet  seemed  red  like  the  shells  of  boiled  lobsters  and  were  split 
into  bloody  cracks  like  the  hands." 

The  harm  done  by  this  raid  to  the  Department  of  South 
western  Virginia  was  scarcely  commensurate  with  the  loss  sus 
tained  by  the  enemy.  The  salt  works  and  the  works  at  the  lead 
mines  were  injured,  but  not  to  such  an  extent  that  they  might 
not  have  been  readily  repaired,  for  the  labour  of  destruction  was 
very  hastily  and  imperfectly  performed.  The  most  serious  loss 
was  that  of  the  stores  burned  at  Bristol  and  Abingdon,  for  they 
were  sorely  needed  and  it  was  almost  impossible  to  replace 
them.  The  fall  of  the  Confederacy,  however,  came  so  soon 
thereafter  that  the  misfortune  was  not  felt  as  might  otherwise 
have  been. 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  193 

After  this  General  Breckinridge  was  appointed  secretary  of 
war  and  his  service  in  the  field  was  definitely  terminated.  All  of 
those  who  served  with  General  Breckinridge  in  any  such  capacity 
as  enabled  them  to  form  an  accurate  opinion  of  his  work  will,  I 
believe,  agree  with  me  in  my  estimate  of  him  as  a  soldier.  He  had 
unquestionably  a  remarkable  sagacity  in  all  matters  pertaining 
to  actual  warfare,  a  rare  military  aptitude.  His  courage  and 
resolution  were  superb.  I  have  never,  I  think,  witnessed  an 
indifference  to  danger  so  absolutely  calm  and  imperturbable  as 
I  have  seen  him  display  under  very  extraordinary  exposure  to 
personal  peril.  His  chief  defect  as  a  soldier  —  and,  perhaps, 
as  a  civilian  —  was  a  strange  indolence  or  apathy  which  at  times 
assailed  him.  He  illustrated  in  his  official  conduct  the  difference 
between  energy  and  persistent  industry.  When  thoroughly 
aroused  he  acted  with  tremendous  vigour,  as  well  as  indomitable 
decision;  but  he  needed  to  be  spurred  to  action,  and  without  some 
special  incentive  was  often  listless  and  lethargic.  Nature  seemed 
to  have  formed  him  to  deal  with  emergencies.  He  rose  to  his  full 
stature  only  in  the  midst  of  danger  and  disaster,  and  was  at  his 
best  when  the  occasion  seemed  desperate. 

It  may  seem  hardly  appropriate,  in  a  sketch  intended  to  por 
tray  General  Breckinridge's  qualities  as  a  soldier,  to  allude  to 
his  characteristics  as  an  orator;  but  it  is  difficult  to  speak  of  him 
at  all  without  some  mention  of  his  extraordinary  capacity  in  this 
respect.  Indeed  his  influence  with  the  men  he  commanded 
was  largely  aided  by  the  powerful  effect  of  his  eloquence.  He 
had  every  attribute  of  the  orator.  In  stature  he  was  above 
the  medium  height,  and  appeared  when  speaking  to  dilate  to  yet 
larger  proportions,  while  his  manly,  well-moulded  figure  was  at 
such  times  especially  graceful.  His  manner  was  dignified  and 
majestic,  his  voice  resonant  and  sympathetic,  and  his  delivery 
the  perfection  of  elocutionary  skill.  His  diction  was  remarkably 
lucid  and  illustrative,  without  much  of  what  might  have  been 
termed  rhetoric.  I  never  heard  him,  without  thinking  of  Ma- 
caulay's  description  of  the  younger  Pitt;  the  same  command  of 
impressive,  felicitous  language,  and  succession  of  stately  sen 
tences  glowing  with  the  sentiment  which  most  directly  appealed 
to  his  auditors. 

Along  with  his  stronger  and  more  virile  qualities,  not  less 


194  GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE 

conspicious  was  an  exceeding  amiability  of  temper  and  an 
admirable  self-control.  I  never  saw  a  man  more  loath  to  give 
or  take  offence,  or  one  so  patient  with  the,  perhaps,  over-zealous 
suggestions  of  younger  subordinates,  and  the  occasional  petulance 
which  seems  an  inevitable  concomitant  of  volunteer  military 
service.  His  overmastering  ability  and  strength  of  character 
enabled  him  to  always  command  easily,  but  he  never  exerted  his 
authority  harshly,  and  was  apparently  often  reluctant  to  exert 
it  at  all. 

Brave,  magnanimous,  capable,  and  devoted,  he  received  from 
his  comrades,  associates,  and  followers  in  the  service  he  rendered 
the  South  and  his  native  state  an  unusual  share  of  love  and  ad 
miration,  and  their  descendants  should  hold  his  memory  in  honour 
and  affection. 


CHAPTER  X 

OF  THE  five  major-generals  commissioned  from  Kentucky 
in  the  Confederate  army,  that  one,  next  to  John  C. 
Breckinridge,  who  had  achieved  most  distinction  before 
the  war,  and  who  performed  a  greater  share  of  gallant  and  in 
trepid  service  during  the  war,  was  Gen.  William  Preston;  and 
he  will  appear  in  the  history  of  his  day  and  time  as  one  of  its  most 
attractive,  although  not  among  its  most  prominent,  figures. 

His  reputation  will  not  rest  so  much  upon  a  display  of  military 
capacity,  although  he  was  a  capable,  efficient,  and  faithful  officer, 
as  upon  ability  evinced  in  other  directions.  He  was  so  brilliant, 
so  accomplished  in  many  ways,  and  so  chivalric  in  nature;  his 
name  was  connected  with  so  much  that  attracted  public  atten 
tion,  with  so  many  events  of  historic  interest  and  with  so  many 
events  of  historic  interest  in  both  his  military  and  civil  life; 
and  he  acquitted  himself  so  admirably  in  every  situation  —  that 
he  will  be  awarded  a  conspicuous  place  in  the  Confederate  Pan 
theon  and  will  be  remembered  by  the  people  of  the  South  and 
of  his  native  state. 

Some  one  termed  him  "The  last  of  the  cavaliers,"  and  the 
designation  was  not  inaptly  bestowed.  He  was  not  only  abso 
lutely  true  to  principle  and  conviction,  but  a  strong  strain  of 
romantic  sentiment  pervaded  his  character,  making  him  sensi 
tive  to  everything  he  regarded  as  an  obligation,  either  of  honour 
or  friendship.  He  had  rather  more  respect,  I  think,  for  his  own 
word  solemnly  pledged,  than  for  a  statute  duly  enacted.  He 
was  thoroughly  brave,  and,  although  not  fond  of  adventure  or 
addicted  to  seeking  it,  liked  the  hazard  and  excitment  of  battle. 
His  talents  and  his  training  were  better  adapted  to  success  in 
civil  affairs,  but  his  tastes  and  inclinations  were  decidedly  mili 
tary.  The  peculiar  tone  and  eclat  of  army  life  attracted  him. 
Discipline  elsewhere  might  have  been  irksome  to  him,  but  he 
appreciated  and  approved  of  it  in  the  camp,  even  when  required 
himself  to  submit  to  its  restraint. 

19$ 


196  REMINISCENCES  OF 

General  Preston  had  received  a  careful  and  thorough  academic 
education,  which  he  supplemented  by  constant  and  assiduous 
self-instruction.  He  read  widely  and  profoundly  considered 
all  the  information  so  acquired.  His  habit  of  thought  was  close 
and  scholarly  and  his  faculty  of  clear  and  forcible  expression 
remarkable.  These  gifts  enabled  him  to  become  very  popular 
as  a  public  speaker,  and,  combined  with  unusual  wit,  a  keen 
sense  of  humour  and  appreciation  of  the  ludicrous,  and  an 
exceedingly  kindly  and  courteous  temper,  made  him  an  entertain 
ing  and  delightful  companion.  His  conversation  was  occasion 
ally  rather  more  ornate  and  didactic  than  some  people  altogether 
fancied,  but  was  eloquent  and  enlivened  by  an  exhaustless  flow 
of  illustration  and  anecdote. 

In  personal  appearance  he  was  unusually  imposing;  his  face 
strikingly  handsome,  with  strong  aquiline  features,  and  his 
form  tall,  large,  and  commanding.  His  manner,  rather,  I  think, 
because  of  his  vigorous  physique  and  sanguine,  decided  tempera 
ment,  than  because  he  was  unduly  proud  or  arbitrary  in  dispo 
sition,  gave  a  certain  impression  of  hauteur.  For,  while,  in  the 
best  sense  of  the  term,  he  was  an  aristocrat,  no  one  was,  in  the 
most  essential  respect,  more  thoroughly  democratic;  no  one 
judged  and  esteemed  men  more  entirely  for  their  personal  worth, 
regardless  of  adventitious  surroundings.  His  own  estimate 
of  how  people  regarded  him,  whether  accurate  or  not,  was  sug 
gestive.  He  used  to  say  that  he  had  many  friends  among  the 
rich  and  exalted  in  station,  and  was  almost  universally  liked 
by  the  poor  and  humble,  but  that  he  had  never  succeeded  in 
especially  commending  himself  to  "the  great,  'respectable' 
middle  class." 

General  Preston  was  graduated  from  the  law  class  of  Harvar  1 
in  1838,  and  immediately  began  the  practice  of  law  in  his  nat-  \ 
city  of  Louisville.  Like  nearly  all  of  the  young  men  at  the  br.r 
in  Kentucky  at  that  time,  he  took  an  active  interest  in  politic:., 
being  then  an  ardent  Whig,  and  was  elected  to  the  lower  house 
of  the  legislature  in  1851.  He  had  previously  served  in  the 
war  with  Mexico  as  lieutenant-colonel  of  the  Fourth  Kentucky 
Volunteer  Regiment  of  infantry,  and  also  for  a  short  time  on  the 
staff  of  Gen.  Winfield  Scott.  In  1852  he  was  elected  to  congress, 
filling  out  an  unexpired  term,  caused  by  the  resignation  of 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  197 

Humphrey  Marshall.  He  was  elected  to  congress  the  second  time, 
but  was  beaten  by  Marshall  for  the  term  commencing  March  jd, 
1855.  At  that  date  the  old  Whig  party  had  become  entirely 
disintegrated,  and  the  American,  or  Know-Nothing  party, 
as  it  was  nicknamed,  had  arisen  upon  its  ruins.  A  man  like 
Preston  could  have  no  sympathy  with  the  intolerant  and  pre 
scriptive  policies  advocated  by  the  Know-No  things,  and  he  was 
especially  disgusted  by  the  revolting  ruffianism  incited  by  its 
leaders  and  practised  in  some  of  the  larger  cities.  One  of  the 
most  terrible  examples  of  this  brutality  —  the  massacre  of  a 
number  of  unoffending  citizens,  merely  because  they  attempted 
to  vote  in  opposition  to  the  Know-Nothing  candidates  — 
occurred  in  Louisville,  and  that  day,  so  damaging  to  the 
good  name  of  the  city,  has  since  been  known  in  its  annals  as 
"Bloody  Monday." 

Preston,  from  that  time  and  until  his  death,  acted  with  the 
Democratic  party,  and  was  elected  to  the  convention  which  nom 
inated  James  Buchanan  as  candidate  for  President  and  John 
C.  Breckinridge  for  vice-president.  He  had  been  conspicuous 
for  his  ability,  and  had  achieved  more  than  ordinary  reputation 
during  his  congressional  service,  which  he  fully  maintained  upon 
the  floor  of  the  convention,  and  in  the  canvass  which  ensued; 
so  prominently  commanding  the  attention  and  approbation 
of  his  political  associates  that  his  appointment  by  Mr.  Buchanan 
as  minister  to  Spain  was  generally  commended. 

No  American,  perhaps,  who  has  ever  been  given  such  a  mis 
sion,  was  better  adapted  to  satisfy  the  country  to  which  he  was 
accredited.  He  was  acquainted  with  the  language  which,  in 
brief  time,  he  learned  to  speak  fluently,  was  familiar  with  Spanish 
literature  and  history,  and  could  thoroughly  understand  and 
sympathize  with  the  character  of  a  people,  who,  with  all  their 
faults,  are  proud,  high-strung,  loyal  to  their  code  of  right  and 
duty,  and  devotedly  patriotic;  who  in  their  decadent  civiliza 
tion  have  still  felt  the  impulse  of  that  ancient  chivalry  which  had 
expelled  the  Moor,  discovered  and  begun  the  colonization  of 
the  new  world,  and  for  a  time  made  their  country  the  dominant 
European  power.  He  admired  the  romantic  and  punctilious 
spirit  and  bold  temper  of  the  Spaniard  as  exhibited  both  by 
noble  and  peasant,  and  there  was  much  in  him  that  appealed 


I9S  REMINISCENCES  OF  x 

to  them.  His  presence  and  bearing  resembled  our  conception 
of  what  might  have  been  that  of  the  hidalgo  of  the  sixteenth 
century,  and  he  could  feel,  although  he  might  not  think,  like  a 
knight  of  the  conquest.  He  became  extremely  popular  with 
all  classes  in  Madrid,  and  if  there  had  been  anything  of  impor 
tance  then  for  American  diplomacy  to  effect,  he  would  doubtless 
have  successfully  accomplished  it.  He  did  perfectly  all  that 
there  was  then  to  do;  that  is,  to  impress  the  Spaniards  with  a 
most  favourable  idea  of  the  American. 

Among  the  many  reminiscences  he  related  of  his  Spanish 
experience,  I  remember  one  more  particularly  because  it  was 
illustrative  of  his  own  most  marked  traits  of  character.  It 
seems  that  a  colonel  of  the  English  army,  travelling  with  his 
wife  in  Spain,  was  sojourning  for  a  time  at  one  of  the  principal 
hotels  of  Madrid.  One  morning  at  breakfast  a  Spanish  gentle 
man,  seated  just  opposite  the  English  couple  at  the  same  table, 
began,  after  he  had  concluded  his  meal,  to  smoke  a  cigarette. 
The  Englishman,  in  a  very  surly  tone  and  peremptory  manner, 
bade  him  desist.  The  Spaniard  was  a  native  of  a  certain  prov 
ince —  the  name  of  which  I  have  forgotten  —  the  inhabitants 
of  which  were  noted  for  their  independent  spirit,  and  cool, 
reckless  courage.  Preston  said  they  were  termed  "  the  Gascons 
of  Spain."  The  little  Don  —  he  was  about  half  the  size  of  the 
Englishman  —  made  answer  to  this  request  in  very  cool  and 
deliberate  fashion.  He  said  that  he  was  indulging  in  a  practice 
which  was  common  and  not  considered  objectionable  in  Spain, 
and  that  it  was  more  reasonable  for  strangers  to  tolerate  the 
customs  of  a  country  than  to  expect  its  inhabitants  to  forego 
them. 

"Moreover,"  he  said,  "while  the  smoke  of  my  cigarette  may 
be  offensive  to  you,  the  tone  of  your  request  is  exceedingly  of 
fensive  to  me;  nor  do  you  prefer  it  in  behalf  of  the  lady,  in  which 
event  I  might  grant  it,  but  you  insist  upon  it  for  your  own  conven 
ience,  with  which  I  am  not  at  all  concerned." 

The  Englishman  replied  with  hot  words,  vand  after  a  short 
altercation  leaned  over  the  table  and  slapped  the  Spaniard's 
face.  The  other,  without  showing  the  least  excitement, 
remarked : 

"Sefior,  it  is  not  one  of  our  customs  to  exchange  fisticuffs, 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  199 

and  besides,  if  you  have  forgotten  the  presence  of  a  lady,  I  have 
not.  But  you  have  offered  me  an  insult  which  can  only  be  ex 
piated  by  blood.  I  will  send  a  friend  to  you  and  will  expect  you 
to  grant  me  a  meeting." 

So  the  colonel,  in  an  hour  or  two,  received  a  visit  from  another 
Spanish  gentleman  who  bore  a  cartel.  In  the  meantime  the 
colonel  had  repented  his  loss  of  temper  and  his  act,  and,  while 
no  doubt  possessing  a  due  share  of  his  national  courage,  was 
greatly  averse  to  duelling.  It  was  no  longer  a  British  "  custom," 
and  he  ran  the  risk  of  forfeiting  his  commission  if  he  fought  one. 
He  offered  to  apologize,  but  was  politely  informed  that  no  apol 
ogy  would  be  received  for  such  an  affront,  and  that  he  would  be 
publicly  proclaimed  a  coward  if  he  declined  to  fight.  That  also 
might  mean  the  loss  of  his  position  in  the  army. 

In  this  dilemma  he  thought  of  the  English  ambassador,  and 
called  on  him  for  advice  and  assistance.  The  ambassador, 
between  whom  and  Preston  there  was  a  close  intimacy,  in  turn 
asked  the  aid  of  the  latter,  as  one  better  acquainted  with  the 
laws  of  the  duello  than  himself,  and  likely  to  have  more  influence 
with  the  belligerent  Spaniards. 

Preston  at  first  declined  to  take  part  in  the  affair,  declaring 
that  the  colonel,  having  given  such  provocation,  ought  to  fight; 
but  was  finally  induced  by  the  solicitations  of  his  friend  to  make 
an  effort  to  settle  the  difficulty. 

He  accordingly  called  on  the  challenger,  by  whom  he  was 
received  with  great  courtesy  and  assurances  of  the  most  distin 
guished  consideration,  and  presented  the  matter  with  which  he 
was  charged.  He  apologized  for  what  he  admitted  might  seem 
an  interference  in  an  affair  with  which  he  had  no  personal  or 
immediate  concern;  but  explained  how  he  had  consented  to  under 
take  such  a  mission,  saying  that  if  such  intervention  was  not 
deemed  proper,  he  would  proceed  no  further.  The  Spaniard 
replied  that  he  regarded  the  interest  which  Seiior  Preston  might 
take  in  any  affair  with  which  he  was  connected  an  honour, 
and  begged  that  the  sefior  would  feel  no  hesitation  in  discussing  it. 

General  Preston  began  by  declaring  his  perfect  understanding 
and  approval  of  the  Spaniard's  desire  to  obtain  satisfaction. 
With  his  own  people,  he  said,  duelling  was  recognized  and  fre 
quent,  and  that  he  would  himself,  if  necessary,  resort  to  that 


200  REMINISCENCES  OF 

method  of  obtaining  redress  for  insult  or  outrage.  But,  grave 
as  was  the  affront,  in  this  instance,  it  was  yet  a  case,  he  thought, 
in  which  an  apology  might  be  accepted.  He  then  explained 
that  if  the  Englishman  fought,  he  would  be  dismissed  from  the 
army  and  lose  his  only  means  of  support,  and  finished  by  an  ap 
peal  to  the  generosity  of  a  Spanish  gentleman  to  make  some 
concession  under  the  circumstances.  The  Spaniard  regarded 
him  intently  for  a  few  moments,  and  then  said : 

"  Senor  Preston,  I  will  ask  you  frankly  what  you  would  do  in 
a  like  case,  and  I  know  that  you  will  give  me  a  candid  answer." 

"I  would  act,  senor,"  responded  the  general,  "just  as  I  -have 
urged  you  to  do.  I  will  never  ask  any  gentleman  to  do  that 
which  I  would  not  do  myself." 

"With  that  assurance,"  said  the  preux  chevalier,  "I  will 
grant  your  request  and  accept  an  apology;  and  the  Senor  Eng 
lishman  may  rest  satisfied  that  I  shall  no  more  remember  the 
blow  he  inflicted  than  I  would  the  kick  of  an  ass." 

General  Preston's  mission  terminated,  and  he  returned  to 
America  a  few  months  before  the  breaking  out  of  the  Civil  War, 
and  when  the  excitement  consequent  upon  its  anticipation  was 
at  the  highest  pitch. 

Upon  his  return  home  Preston  found  himself  and  those  with 
whom  he  proposed  to  act  confronted  with  conditions  more 
serious,  perhaps,  than  he  had  anticipated.  He  had  no  doubt 
been  kept  informed,  during  his  absence,  of  current  events  and 
the  trend  of  political  sentiment  as  publicly  expressed.  But  in 
such  a  crisis,  events  sometimes  move  more  rapidly  than  they 
can  be  exactly  recorded,  or,  their  significance  be  apprehended 
except  by  those  immediately  in  touch  with  them;  and  political 
sentiment,  as  it  is  preparing  to  take  shape  in  action,  may  develop 
at  a  rate  with  which  the  ordinary  forms  of  public  expression  can 
scarcely  keep  pace. 

In  common  with  all  intelligent  observers  who  lived  south  of 
Mason  and  Dixon's  line,  and  who  were  acquainted  with  the  views 
and  feelings  of  the  Southern  people,  he  was  prepared  for  an  exhi 
bition  upon  their  part  of  strong  and  earnest  evidences  of  disap 
pointment  and  indignation  at  the  election  of  Mr.  Lincoln, 
and  realized  that  it  would  be  regarded  in  like  manner  by  the 
people  of  Kentucky.  He  probably  did  not  immediately  realize, 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  201 

however,  the  extent  to  which  such  resentment  would  be  carried. 
While  he  had  been  cognizant,  previously  to  his  departure  upon 
his  mission,  of  the  rapid  growth  of  sectional  differences  and  es 
trangement  and  the  increasing  bitterness  of  sectional  feeling, 
he  could  not  understand,  when  removed  from  participation  in 
the  debate,  so  well  as  could  those  daily  engaged  in  it,  how  swiftly 
the  quarrel  was  approaching  actual  and  open  hostilities. 

At  the  date  of  his  return,  the  incessant  agitation  of  the  slavery 
question,  in  all  of  its  phases,  had  gotten  beyond  the  region  of 
mere  political  controversy,  and  was  threatening  practical  and 
dangerous  results.  The  mere  theoretical  discussion  of  the  intro 
duction  of  slavery  into  the  territories  had,  for  some  years,  greatly 
excited  the  public  mind;  but  when  it  was  actually  attempted 
and  real  strife  occurred  along  the  Kansas  border,  when  armed 
collisions  betweed  the  pro-slavery  and  free-soil  settlers  and  their 
respective  allies  became  frequent,  the  feeling  all  over  the  country 
passed  beyond  control.  Closely  following  these  exasperating 
troubles  in  Kansas  came  the  audacious  and  insolent  enterprise 
of  John  Brown,  at  Harper's  Ferry,  intended,  apparently,  to 
challenge  and  arouse  the  most  serious  apprehension  of  every 
slave-holding  community;  and  the  Southern  people  were  excited 
almost  to  frenzy.  Had  a  period  of  two  or  three  years  intervened 
between  this  incident  and  the  opening  of  the  Presidential  contest 
of  1860,  during  which  (by  some  miraculous  dispensation)  the 
dispute  might  have  been  suspended  and  less  sensational  condi 
tions  have  prevailed,  it  is  barely  conceivable  that  the  great  civil 
conflict  might  have  been  averted.  But  the  Presidential  cam 
paign  began  almost  immediately  afterward;  all  of  these  irrita 
ting  events  were  made  prominent  issues,  and  gave  a  more  offensive 
and  dangerous  significance  to  the  election  of  a  Republican  candi 
date,  and  destiny  seemed  to  inhibit  a  peaceable  adjustment. 

Preston  was  not,  in  the  phraseology  of  that  time,  an  "original 
secessionist,"  nor  did  he  regard  with  favour,  or  except  as  a  last 
resort,  any  policy  or  line  of  action  which  contemplated  a  dissolu 
tion  of  the  Union.  Reared  in  the  Whig  party  and  under  the 
the  tutelage  of  Mr.  Clay,  he  had  been  taught  to  believe  that  the 
Union  was  chiefly  instrumental  to  the  material  prosperity  of 
the  states  which  composed  it,  and  almost  essential  to  the  preser 
vation  of  peace  among  their  people.  His  mental  inclination,  his 


202  REMINISCENCES  OF 

intellectual  preference,  was  for  national  unity  and  greatness, 
and  opposed  to  territorial  disintegration  and  consequent 
diminution  of  the  strength  and  dignity  of  government.  But, 
above  all,  he  was  a  Southern  man  by  blood  and  by  social  ties 
and  traditions. 

It  should  be  borne  in  mind  that,  at  that  date,  sectional  influ 
ence  was  more  potent  than  now,  and,  with  the  exception  of  Massa 
chusetts,  perhaps,  more  strongly  and  generally  recognized  in 
the  South  than  in  the  North.  Upon  the  absorbing  issue  which 
had  induced  the  controversy  and  was  threatening  disunion, 
he  sincerely  agreed  and  sided  warmly  with  his  immediate  coun 
trymen.  Few  men,  at  that  day,  in  the  South  —  or,  indeed, 
in  the  North  —  gave  much  consideration  to  the  abstract  proposi 
tion  whether  slavery  was  or  was  not  morally  justifiable.  They 
were  more  concerned  with  its  social  and  economic  features  — 
with  conditions  which  might  make  the  negro  who  was  here  to 
stay,  not  only  a  useful  but  an  always  harmless  element  of  their 
population.  Nor  were  the  Southern  people  responsible  for  the 
existence  of  slavery  upon  this  continent,  and  scarcely  so  for  its 
presence  among  themselves.  The  animus  and  methods  with 
which  it  was  assailed  were  virulent  and  injurious  to  every  South 
ern  interest;  and  the  South  objected  to  being  made  a  scape-goat 
for  the  national  sin  and  the  "dreadful  example"  condemned  by 
recent  New  England  morality. 

Thoroughly  Southern  in  sympathy  and  profoundly  convinced 
of  the  danger  with  which  his  section  was  menaced;  resenting 
in  common  with  every  man  in  his  position  and  who  felt  as  he 
did,  the  unjust  criticism  of  the  Southern  attitude  with  which 
the  Northern  press  and  pulpit  resounded,  and  which  the  Northern 
public  seemed  to  generally  endorse,  it  is  not  surprising  that  the 
instinct  and  sentiment  of  the  man  overcame  the  effect  of  his 
political  education.  Little  chance  or  time  was  afforded  him  for 
mature  or  dispassionate  reflection  upon  the  situation  after  his 
return  to  Kentucky,  for  the  speedy  march  of  events  was  pressing 
all  men  to  a  determination,  and  he  was  not  one  to  hesitate  or 
be  slow  in  forming  a  resolution. 

All  hope  of  compromise  or  harmonious  adjustment  of  the 
sectional  troubles,  or  of  delay  of  Southern  effort  for  separation 
and  independent  government,  which  might  have  been  entertained 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  203 

after  the  election  of  Mr.  Lincoln,  was  quickly  proved  fallacious. 
The  secession  of  South  Carolina  in  less  than  a  month  after  the 
Presidential  election,  followed  by  that  of  Mississippi,  Alabama, 
and  Georgia,  in  less  than  another  month,  and  the  absolute  cer 
tainty,  so  far  as  such  a  thing  could  be  within  human  prevision, 
that  seven  other  Southern  States  would  secede,  conclusively 
demonstrated  that  the  process  of  attempted  national  disruption 
was  inaugurated  in  earnest  and  would  be  prosecuted  with  un 
flinching  purpose.  Either  similar  action  on  the  part  of  the  border 
slave-holding  states,  or  a  prompt  and  unmistakable  declaration 
of  determined  adhesion  to  the  Union,  might  then  have  been 
reasonably  expected. 

But  while  popular  feeling  was,  as  I  have  said,  at  the  highest 
tension,  and  individuals  everywhere  were  taking  sides,  the  men 
in  Maryland,  Missouri,  and  Kentucky  —  with  few  exceptions  — 
who  were  in  a  position  to  formulate  and  direct  public  conduct, 
seemed  only  anxious  to  confuse  and  divide  public  opinion. 
In  Kentucky  and  Missouri  these  leaders,  either  because  of  timid 
ity  or  lack  of  honest  conviction,  counselled  and  acted  with  a 
duplicity  which  paralyzed  anything  like  concerted  action  by 
the  people.  The  great  majority  of  men  in  these  states,  either 
of  those  who  stood  loyally  for  the  Union  or  those  who, with  equal 
sincerity,  desired  to  take  part  with  the  South  —  and  those 
especially  who  subsequently  enlisted  and  fought  in  either  army  — 
were  ready  to  back  their  sentiments  by  definite  and  appropriate 
public  action.  But  no  opportunity  to  do  so  was  given  them; 
and  these  states,  after  drifting  aimlessly  in  the  political  storm, 
remained  in  the  Union,  not  so  much  by  the  choice  of  their 
people,  as  because  of  a  policy  which  permitted  them  no 
decision. 

The  Kentuckians  who  enlisted  in  the  Confederate  army  have 
sometimes  been  taunted  with  the  suggestions  that  the  defence 
offered  for  the  conduct  of  the  men  from  the  seceded  states  who 
fought  to  dismember  the  Union,  cannot  be  urged  for  them.  To 
those  who  can  be  satisfied  with  specious  reasoning,  the  point 
may  seem  —  or,  rather,  sound  —  to  be  well  taken.  But  it  has 
no  real  force,  even  as  a  technical  criticism.  As  a  matter  of  fact, 
the  only  action  taken  to  ascertain  the  choice  and  will  of  the  people 
of  Kentucky,  as  to  whether  they  would  remain  in  the  Union 


204  REMINISCENCES  OF 

or  take  part  with  the  South,  was  that  had  at  the  convention  held 
at  Russellville  November  18,  1861. 

That  assembly  was  not  provided  for,  it  is  true,  by  act  of  the 
legislature,  but  was  a  popular  convention,  called  together  as  such 
bodies  are  customarily  summoned.  It  was  composed  of  more 
than  two  hundred  delegates,  sent  from  sixty-five  counties,  a  very 
considerable  majority  of  the  counties  of  the  state.  It  passed 
an  ordinance  of  secession,  adopted  a  provisional  form  of  state 
government,  and  elected  a  provisional  governor  and  other 
officers.  Its  assembling  and  procedure  lacked  official  initiation 
and  sanction,  and  may 'be  termed  irregular;  but  its  determina 
tion  was  a  better  warrant  of  what  the  people  of  Kentucky  desired 
to  do  than  was  ever  given  on  the  other  side.  Indeed,  from  the 
standpoint  of  the  unconditional  and  uncompromising  Unionist 
—  the  man  who  believed  that  the  Union  was  legally,  morally 
and  altogether  indestructible  —  the  action  of  the  Russellville 
convention  was  quite  as  authoritative  and  conclusive  as  that 
taken  by  any  state  which  maintained  its  attitude  of  secession 
during  the  four  years  of  the  war;  for,  according  to  this  creed, 
no  state  once  admitted  into  the  Union  could  ever  by  any  method 
or  possibility  get  out  again.  It  is  scarcely  necessary  to  comment 
upon  the  fallacy  and  injustice  of  this  criticism  of  the  Kentucky 
Confederates.  If  the  attempt  was,  as  claimed  by  those  who 
inaugurated  it,  a  legitimate  and  rightful  effort  for  separate 
government  undetaken  by  states  which  had  as  good  right  to 
withdraw  from  the  Union  as  they  had  to  assist  in  framing  it, 
then  a  Kentuckian,  like  the  native  of  any  other  country,  could 
without  question  become  a  citizen  of  the  Confederacy.  If  the 
attempt  was  merely  revolutionary  —  one  form  of  exercise  of 
that  right  —  the  citizens  of  the  states  which  adopted  ordinances 
of  secession  in  a  more  formal  manner  had  no  more  excuse  for 
their  action  than  had  the  Kentuckians  who  joined  them  in  the 
effort  for  independence. 

Moreover,  while  in  pursuance  of  the  theory  on  which  it  was 
projected  and  because  of  practical  necessity  the  movement  pro 
ceeded  by  separate  state  action,  it  was,  as  I  have  said,  sectional 
in  its  impulse  and  character.  It  gained  recruits,  not  so  much 
because  of  solicitude  for  the  interest  of  some  particular  state, 
as  by  reason  of  regard  for  the  entire  region  whose  interests  were 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  205 

identical  and  whose  welfare  seemed  at  stake.  The  Kentuckians 
who  entered  the  Confederate  service  honestly  believed,  and  I 
think  with  reason,  that  a  large  majority  of  the  people  of  their 
state,  sympathized  with  and  wished  the  success  of  the  Southern 
effort,  and  expected  that,  if  the  Confederacy  was  established, 
Kentucky  would  become  a  member  of  it.  Many,  also,  who  dep 
recated  secession,  nevertheless  thought  coercion  a  far  graver 
crime;  and  while  not  willing  to  assist  aggression  were  willing 
to  fight  to  repel  it.  I  have  always  believed  that  if  Virginia  — 
whose  example  was  always  influential  with  Kentucky  —  had 
seceded  at  an  earlier  date,  and  certainly,  if  Tennessee,  which 
did  not  secede  until  June  8,  1861,  had  acted  more  promptly, 
Kentucky  would  have  formally  and  with  practical  unanimity 
united  her  fortunes  with  those  of  the  Southern  states.  Her 
unmistakable  expression  of  this  sentiment  after  the  close  of 
the  war  justifies  this  belief. 

It  was  by  such  considerations  that  Preston's  conduct  was 
controlled.  He  discerned  with  clear  sagacity  the  true  meaning 
of  events,  and  understood  not  only  that  no  offer  of  peaceable 
arbitrament  could  dissuade  the  people  of  the  Southern  states 
from  the  course  on  which  they  had  determined,  but  also  that  the 
Northern  people  would  do  their  utmost  to  prevent  its  consumma 
tion.  He  saw  that  war  was  inevitable  and  resolved  to  fight  for 
the  South. 

It  would  seem  that  it  should  have  been  evident  to  all  who  had 
reached  the  same  conclusion,  that  they  could  succeed  only  by 
rejecting  every  suggestion  of  compromise,  in  respect  of  state 
action,  and  by  a  prompt  and  aggressive  policy.  It  was  possible 
to  array  Kentucky  on  the  side  of  the  South  and  enable  her  to 
render  the  Confederacy  efficient  support  only  by  anticipating 
the  action  to  prevent  just  such  a  contingency  which  the  Federal 
government  would  assuredly  undertake.  Nevertheless  many 
of  the  recognized  leaders  of  the  Southern  movement  in  Kentucky 
hesitated,  consented  to  fatal  delays,  and  encouraged  the  idea 
of  "neutrality,"  until  the  people  became  so  possessed  with  it 
that  all  active  and  resolute  effort  —  any  concerted,  popular 
effort  or  programme,  which  promised  a  reasonable  hope  of  suc 
cess  —  was  no  longer  possible. 

Preston  was  not  one  of  those  who  either  doubt  or  temporize 


206  REMINISCENCES  OF 

and  of  all  of  the  public  men  of  the  state  his  counsel  and 
utterances  were  perhaps  the  frankest  and  most  decided.  I  once 
heard  the  style  and  effect  of  the  speeches  which  he  delivered 
during  the  period,  when  these  questions  were  matters  of  frequent 
and  excited  discussion,  graphically  and  no  doubt  quite  correctly 
described.  An  auditor  of  one  of  them,  made  at  a  large  public 
meeting  held  at  Lexington,  said  that  a  number  of  popular  ora 
tors  addressed  the  meeting,  and  all  were  listened  to  with  earnest 
attention.  None,  however,  produced  a  real  impression  until 
Preston  spoke.  In  burning  words  and  unequivocal  terms  he 
urged  his  hearers  to  help  their  brothers  of  the  South.  "Then," 
said  the  narrator,  "the  crowd  went  wild,  and  every  man  in  it 
wanted  to  be  a  brigadier-general  in  the  Confederate  army." 

The  zeal  and  candour  with  which  he  expressed  his  convictions 
failed  to  induce  the  organized  effort  which  he  hoped,  but  undoubt 
edly  contributed  very  greatly  to  stimulate  enlistments  from 
Kentucky  in  the  cause  of  the  South.  The  imminent  danger  of 
arrest,  however,  compelled  him  to  leave  his  home  at  Lexington 
early  in  September,  i86i,and  evading,  with  some  difficulty,  his 
would-be  captors,  he  made  his  way  to  Bowling  Green  which  the 
advance  of  the  Confederate  forces  just  entering  Kentucky  had 
occupied. 

Bowling  Green  was  occupied  by  the  Confederate  troops  on  the 
1 8th  of  September,  1861.  The  force  which  first  entered  was 
about  forty-five  hundred  strong  and  was  under  the  immediate 
command  of  Gen.  Simon  B.  Buckner.  Buckner  had  been  offered 
a  commission  as  brigadier-general  in  the  Federal  army,  which 
position  he  declined.  The  same  rank  had  also  been  subsequently 
tendered  him  in  the  Confederate  service.  This  he  also  declined 
because  of  the  then  declared  neutrality  of  his  state.  But  when 
later  it  became  apparent  that  all  hope  of  peaceable  settlement 
must  be  abandoned,  he  offered  his  sword  to  the  Confederacy. 
Gen.  Albert  Sidney  Johnston  at  once  placed  him  in  command  of 
the  troops  which  were  to  be  moved  into  Kentucky  and  recom 
mended  his  appointment  as  brigadier-general,  which  suggestion 
President  Davis  promptly  adopted. 

The  sovereignty  convention  held  at  Russellville,  Ky.,  Novem 
ber  1 8th,  of  which  I  have  already  made  mention,  after  adopt 
ing  an  ordinance  of  secession,  appointed  three  commissioners, 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  207 

Henry  C.  Burnett,  William  E.  Simms,  and  William  Preston, 
with  instructions  to  proceed  to  Richmond,  notify  the  Confeder 
ate  government  of  the  action  taken  by  Kentucky,  and  ask  that 
she  should  be  recognized  as  a  Confederate  state.  Accordingly, 
on  the  loth  of  December,  1861,  the  congress  passed  an  act 
admitting  Kentucky  as  a  member  of  the  Confederacy. 

Preston  immediately  returned  to  Bowling  Green  and  received 
his  commission  as  colonel  in  the  Confederate  army,  with  an  ap 
pointment  upon  the  staff  of  his  brother-in-law,  General  Johnston. 
This  position  was,  of  course,  very  gratifying  to  him  personally, 
and,  admitted  as  he  was  to  the  full  confidence  of  such  a  chief, 
was  greatly  to  be  desired.  A  close  and  devoted  friendship  had 
obtained  between  them  for  many  years,  founded  on  mutual 
esteem  and  admiration,  and  when  General  Johnston  received  his 
fatal  wound  on  the  field  of  Shiloh,  he  died  in  Preston's  arms. 

Preston  was  commissioned  a  brigadier-general  April  14,  1862, 
and  served  at  Vicksburg,  and  subsequently  in  middle  Tennessee 
taking  part  also  in  Bragg's  campaign  into  Kentucky,  in  the  au 
tumn  of  that  year.  He  served  with  distinguished  gallantry  at 
Murfreesboro,  in  which  battle  his  brigade  was  in  Breckinridge's 
division,  and  was  hotly  engaged,  bearing  its  full  share  of  the 
terrible  work  done  by  that  division  in  its  bloody  charge  of  Friday, 
January  2d,  upon  the  Federal  left  wing.  In  April,  1863,  he  was 
sent  to  relieve  Gen.  Humphrey  Marshall  of  the  command 
previously  held  by  the  latter  in  South-western  Virginia,  and 
remained  in  that  district  for  some  months,  commanding  a  part  of 
General  Buckner's  army  entrusted  with  the  defence  of  east 
Tennessee. 

Preston's  high  reputation  as  a  soldier  rests  more  than  anything 
else  in  his  military  career  upon  his  conduct  at  Chickamauga. 
That  battle  was  one  of  the  fiercest  and  bloodiest  fought  during 
the  war;  and  had  complete  instead  of  partial  success  attended 
the  Confederate  effort  made  there  —  had  the  victory,  undoubt 
edly  achieved,  been  instantly  appreciated  by  the  Confederate 
commander  and  energetically  improved  —  it  would,  perhaps, 
have  been  the  most  important  and  valuable  in  results  to  the 
Confederate  cause  of  them  all. 

General  Bragg  had  fallen  back  after  the  battle  of  Murfreesboro 
about  forty  miles  and  had  established  his  army  at  Manchester. 


208  REMINISCENCES  OF 

Shelbyville  and  Tullahoma,where  it  remained  for  five  months, 
still  holding  a' large  share  of  middle  Tennessee,  and  occupying 
with  its  cavalry  much  of  the  fertile  territory  to  the  west  and  north 
of  its  position.  It  was  greatly  reduced,  however,  during  May 
by  detachments  sent  to  Mississippi,  while  the  army  of  Rose- 
crans  confronting  it  was  heavily  reinforced.  When,  therefore,  the 
latter  indicated,  in  June,  an  intention  to  asssume  the  offensive, 
the  situation  became  so  hazardous  that  retreat  to  the  farther 
side  of  the  Tennessee  river  was  unavoidable.  Bragg  accordingly 
quitted  Tullahoma  on  June  30,  1863,  and  marching  for  Chatta 
nooga  reached  that  point  on  July  yth.  Rosecrans  did  not  press 
the  retreat,  nor  for  some  weeks  did  he  evince  any  disposition 
to  pursue. 

Bragg  fortified  Chattanooga,  and  strove  diligently  to  collect 
all  forces  available  within  his  own  department  and  which  could 
be  procured  from  other  quarters.  He  knew  that  he  must  win 
the  battle  which  was  impending,  or  lose  east  Tennessee  and 
northern  Georgia  as  well  as  forfeit  hope  of  recovering  the 
territory  already  abandoned.  General  Buckner  came  to  Chatta 
nooga  from  Knoxville  in  the  latter  part  of  August,  with  the 
brigades  of  Gracie,  Trigg,  and  Kelly.  These  were  placed  under 
the  command  of  General  Preston,  and  with  some  troops  which 
he  had  brought  from  South-western  Virginia,  composed  a  division 
not  numerically  strong,  but  in  other  respects  exceptionally  good. 
Buckner  was  given  a  corps  composed  of  this  division,  and  that 
of  Gen.  A.  P.  Stewart.  Breckinridge  returned  with  his  division 
at  about  the  same  date  and  Longstreet  came  with  two  divisions 
of  the  Army  of  Northern  Virginia,  but  did  not  arrive  until  just 
before  the  battle.  When  the  moment  of  combat  was  at  hand, 
Bragg  was  at  the  head  of  an  army  which,  although  still  numeri 
cally  inferior  to  that  of  his  opponent,  was  unsurpassed  in  spirit 
and  prowess. 

Rosecrans  began  his  movement  southward  on  the  l6th  of 
August.  Demonstrating  in  front  of  Chattanooga  with  Critten- 
den's  corps,  he  crossed  the  Tennessee  with  the  main  body  of  his 
army  and  marched  up  Will's  valley  on  the  western  flank  of 
Lookout  Mountain,  in  the  direction  of  Rome,  and  threatening 
Bragg's  communications.  Bragg  was  not  strong  enough,  espe 
cially  as  Longstreet  had  not  yet  reached  him,  to  meet  this 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  209 

movement  and,  at  the  same  time,  hold  Chattanooga.  He  accord 
ingly  evacuated  that  place  on  the  8th  of  September,  which  was 
immediately  occupied  by  the  Federal  force  which  was  threatening 
it.  Rosecrans  was  deceived  into  the  belief  that  the  Confederate 
army  was  in  full  retreat  on  Rome  and  manoeuvred  accordingly; 
Crittenden  pressed  on  from  Chattanooga  toward  Dalton  to 
menace  Bragg's  rear  and  rejoin  the  main  body  of  the  Federal 
army  somewhere  in  that  vicinity.  Bragg,  however,  halted  and 
took  position  in  the  vicinity  of  Lafayette,  and  behind  the  Chicka- 
mauga  River,  about  twenty  or  twenty-five  miles  south  of  Chat 
tanooga.  It  was  his  plan  —  and  an  extremely  well  conceived 
one  —  to  strike  his  enemy  in  detail. 

Before  Rosecrans  had  ascertained  that  he  was  in  error  regard 
ing  Bragg's  retreat  to  Rome,  the  three  corps  of  his  army  had 
become  widely  separated;  McCook  was  well  on  his  way  to 
Rome,  Thomas  was  moving  into  the  main  pass  of  Lookout 
Mountain  and  toward  Lafayette,  where  Bragg  was  eagerly  await 
ing  him,  and  Crittenden  was  still  in  the  vicinity  of  Chattanooga. 
The  two  wings  of  the  Federal  army  were  more  than  forty  miles 
distant  from  each  other,  with  Bragg's  entire  force  virtually 
between  them.  Rosecrans  was  saved  from  a  crushing  disaster 
more  by  accident  and  good  luck  than  by  skill;  yet  it  must  be 
conceded  that  he  acted  promptly  and  decisively.  McCook  and 
Thomas  were  hurried  back,  and  the  Federal  army  was  gotten 
together  again  on  the  iyth. 

Bragg,  having  failed  to  strike  either  Thomas  or  Crittenden 
separately,  moved  toward  Chattanooga  with  the  hope  of  cutting 
Rosecrans  off  from  that  place,  but  was  prevented  by  the  rapid 
marching  of  Thomas.  On  the  i8th  the  two  armies  were  con 
centrated  and  front  to  front  for  battle,  although  the  Chickamauga 
still  separated  them.  Bragg  had  intended  to  cross  the  river 
early  in  the  morning  of  the  i8th,  but  bad  roads  and  the  persist 
ent  resistance  of  the  enemy,  delayed  the  movement,  and  it  was 
not  begun  until  late  that  afternoon,  nor  completed  until  the 
morning  of  the  2Oth,  although  the  battle  commenced  and  pro 
gressed  with  fury  on  the  I9th. 

Even  were  I  sufficiently  familiar  with  the  story  of  this  memor 
able  conflict  to  give  it  accurately  and  in  detail,  I  would  not,  in 
this  connection,  attempt  to  do  so.  It  is  my  purpose  only  briefly 


210  REMINISCENCES  OF 

to  describe  the  part  taken  in  it  by  General  Preston.  Every 
one  at 'all  acquainted  with  the  history  of  our  Civil  War  has 
doubtless  some  general  idea  of  how  this  battle  was  fought. 
They  know  that  Bragg  marshalled  his  army  in  the  dense  thickets 
and  along  the  banks  of  the  little  stream  of  Chickamauga,  with 
Polk  commanding  its  right  wing  and  Longs treet  its  left;  that, 
pursuing  his  usual  battle  tactics,  he  proposed  to  pivot  on  his 
left  and  swing  his  long  line  on  the  enemy  in  a  great  wheel  directed 
from  his  right.  They  know  that  while  the  first  day  was  princi 
pally  employed  on  both  sides  in  getting  the  troops  into  position, 
it  was  yet  a  day  of  fierce  and  stubborn  fighting,  scarcely  less 
deadly  than  the  tremendous  combat  which  ensued.  They  know 
how  the  repeated  attacks  from  the  Confederate  right,  on  the 
second  day,  were  met  by  the  tenacious  resistance  of  Thomas; 
but  that  Rosecrans  was  compelled  to  reinforce  that  wing  to  such 
extent  as  to  fatally  weaken  his  centre  and  right;  how  Longstreet 
and  Buckner  massed  in  the  afternoon  on  the  Confederate  left, 
swept  the  Federal  right  wing  in  utter  confusion  from  the  field,  and 
wheeling  upon  the  centre  shattered  that  in  turn.  As  night  fell 
Thomas  also  withdrew,  and  the  Confederates  were  left  masters 
of  the  sternly  contested  ground  that  was  drenched  with  the 
bravest  blood  of  each  army. 

Chickamauga  must  always  be  remembered  by  the  Kentucky 
Confederates  with  peculiar  interest.  Almost  every  Kentucky 
organization  in  the  Confederate  service  was  represented  on  that 
field.  The  "Orphan"  brigade  was  there,  and  added  to  its 
already  enviable  reputation.  The  remnant  of  Morgan's  division 
was  there,  fighting,  as  if  by  an  instinct  which  directed  them  to 
seek  appropriate  leadership,  under  Forrest.  Hood,  Longstreet's 
gallant  lieutenant,  was  a  native  Kentuckian.  Buckner  and 
Breckinridge  were  conspicuous  among  those  intrusted  with 
important  command  and  distinguished  for  efficient  conduct. 
Many  Kentuckians  fell;  among  them  Gen.  Ben  Hardin  Helm, 
than  whom  no  man  more  loved  and  no  braver  or  more  accom 
plished  soldier  served  under  the  Southern  banner,  and  Maj. 
Rice  E.  Graves,  the  famous  young  artillerist,  whose  skill  and 
dashing  courage  was  recognized  by  all  the  Army  of  Tennesseee. 

Preston's  division  was  in  Buckner's  corps  on  the  Confederate 
left,  resting  on  the  Chickamauga  near  Lee  and  Gordon's  Mill. 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  211 

It  was  attacked  and  hotly  engaged  on  the  I9th,  but  repulsed 
the  enemy  with  smart  loss,  and  participated  on  the  afternoon 
of  the  2Oth  in  the  heavy  fighting  which  resulted  in  the  complete 
defeat  and  rout  of  the  Federal  forces  upon  that  part  of  the  field. 
Frequent  and  complimentary  mention  is  made  in  the  various 
Confederate  accounts  of  the  battle  of  the  service  rendered  by 
Preston  toward  its  close,  when  the  reiterated  and  vigorous  as 
saults  made  on  Thomas  had  uncovered  the  Chattanooga  road, 
and  well-nigh  driven  him  from  his  position.  Rosecrans  was 
compelled  to  support  him  with  troops  which  were  greatly  needed 
in  other  quarters.  Longstreet,  utilizing  his  opportunity  struck 
and  crushed  the  Federal  right,  and,  pressing  his  advantage 
swept  down  the  line  toward  the  Federal  centre  and  left.  This 
movement  completed  the  defeat  of  the  enemy  and  no  Confederate 
division  commander  contributed  more  to  its  successful  result 
than  Preston.  He  renewed  the  attack,  previously  unsuccessful 
on  the  hills  near  the  Snodgrass  house,  where  Granger  and  Steed- 
man  were  making  a  resolute  stand  to  protect  the  Federal  retreat 
and  prevent  the  rout  which  it  in  large  measure  became.  They 
were  strongly  posted  and  well  provided  with  artillery  and  had 
repulsed  more  than  one  onset. 

Preston  had  been  ordered  to  support  Hindman  and  McLaws, 
but  ascertaining  that  he  could  take  the  enemy  in  flank  by  moving 
along  a  certain  ravine  did  so  upon  his  own  responsibility.  The 
movement  was  no  less  intelligent  than  bold,  and  Preston,  after 
bloody  and  desperate  work  on  both  sides,  dislodged  the  Federals 
from  the  position  and  drove  them  from  the  field.  His  division 
fired,  perhaps,  the  last  shots  of  the  battle  after  the  night 
had  fallen. 

Preston  did  not  win  his  victory  without  cost;  one  of  his  regi 
ments  —  the  Sixty-third  Tennessee  of  Gracie's  brigade  —  lost 
in  killed  and  wounded  two  hundred  and  two  out  of  an  aggregate 
effective  of  four  hundred  and  four.  He  inflicted  severe  loss  on 
the  enemy,  and  captured  the  Eighty-ninth  Ohio,  the  Twenty- 
second  Michigan  and  part  of  the  Twenty-first  Ohio  regiments. 

There  can  be  little  doubt  that  had  General  Bragg,  after  the 
extraordinary  success  on  his  left,  pressed  straight  after  the  fleeing 
enemy  into  Chattanooga,  he  would  have  so  crippled  the  army 
of  Rosecrans  that  it  would  have  been  forced  to  an  immediate 


212  REMINISCENCES  OF 

retreat  on  Nashville,  and,  perhaps,  could  not  have  safely  reached 
that  point.  As  it  was,  he  rested  at  Missionary  Ridge,  in  front 
of  an  enemy  speedily  reorganized  and  in  a  few  weeks  reinforced 
into  overwhelming  strength,  while  his  own  army  was  being 
depleted  instead  of  strengthened.  At  the  first  hostile  advance 
he  was  driven  away  and  the  gallant  Army  of  Tennessee  was 
destined  thenceforth  to  strive  with  heroism  never  surpassed 
for  victory  almost  impossible. 

Preston's  active  military  service  virtually  terminated  with 
the  battle  of  Chickamauga.  Soon  afterward,  and  before  the 
battle  of  Missionary  Ridge,  he  was  replaced  in  command 
of  the  department  of  South-western  Virginia,  where  he  re 
mained,  however,  only  a  few  months.  Early  in  1864, 
he  was  assigned  to  duty  in  the  trans-Mississippi,  although 
he  did  not  receive  his  commission  as  major-general 
until  later. 

At  that  date  it  seemed  probable  that  the  affairs  of  Mexico  were 
about  to  become  closely  involved  with  those  of  the  Confederacy, 
and  that  an  alliance  between  the  two  governments,  mutually 
beneficial,  might  be  effected.  At  any  rate,  Mr.  Davis  and  his 
advisers  were  of  opinion  that  a  competent  diplomatic  representa 
tive,  one  capable  of  so  shaping  the  situation  that  it  might  be  of 
advantage  to  Confederate  interests,  should  be  on  the  ground  ready 
to  utilize  any  opportunity.  Maximilian  had  been  made  titular 
Emperor  of  Mexico  chiefly  by  French  influence,  and,  while  per 
haps  acceptable  to  the  more  intelligent  and  conservative  ele 
ments  of  the  population,  was  maintained  in  his  position  almost 
entirely  by  French  aid  and  protection.  This  attempt  to  establish 
an  autocratic  power  upon  American  soil  and  place  a  European 
prince  upon  the  throne  induced  strong  resentment  and  earnest, 
even  angry,  protest  upon  the  part  of  the  people  and  government 
of  the  United  States.  It  seemed  probable,  indeed,  that  if  France 
persisted  in  this  scheme  of  Mexican  empire,  war  between  her 
and  the  United  States  might  result;  or  that,  at  any  rate,  France 
might  conclude  to  recognize  the  independence  of  the  Confederacy 
and  perhaps,  in  some  way,  furnish  substantial  aid.  In  any 
aspect  of  the  case  it  was  clearly  the  policy  of  the  Confederate 
authorities  to  cultivate,  a  friendly  understanding  and  feeling 
with  the  newly  inaugurated  ruler  of  Mexico.  General  Preston 


GENERAL  BASIL    W.  DUKE  213 

was  sent  as  minister  to  Mexico  early  in  1865  with  some  such 
purpose  as  I  have  indicated. 

His  mission  was  not  only  tentative  and  dubious  of  result, 
but  was  somewhat  difficult  of  accomplishment  in  the  mere  matter 
of  reaching  his  destination.  It  was  undertaken  at  the  time  that 
the  irregular  and  desultory  but  fierce  warfare  waged  between 
the  soldiers  of  Maximilian  and  the  recalcitrant  native  population 
was  at  its  worst.  The  insurgent  Mexicans,  lacking  the  means 
and  organization  to  collect  and  operate  in  bodies  of  any  consider 
able  strength,  were  scattered  through  the  country  more  particu 
larly  along  the  northern  frontier.  All  of  these  bands  were 
guerilla  in  their  character  and  most  of  those  who  composed  them 
were  banditti.  The  imperial  troops  were  also  divided  into  small 
detachments  for  the  purpose  of  more  convenient  operation  and 
active  pursuit;  and  differed  little  from  the  men  with  whom  they 
were  contending  in  their  conduct  toward  the  peaceable  inhabi 
tants  —  if  there  were  any  such.  With  such  conditions  prevail 
ing,  strangers  travelling  through  that-  region  were  naturally 
regarded  with  suspicion  by  both  parties  and  were  in  no  little 
danger.  It  was  in  such  a  "zone  of  hostilities"  that  Preston 
found  himself  when,  after  traversing  Texas  with  a  small  escort 
he  crossed  the  Rio  Grande. 

He  used  to  relate  one  incident  of  this  march  which  seemed 
to  have  greatly  amused  him.  Among  the  members  of  his  escort 
was  a  young  cavalry  officer,  who  had  served  gallantly  in  the 
army  of  the  trans-Mississippi,  but,  ambitious  of  diplomatic  dis 
tinction  and  preferment,  had  gladly  accepted  General  Preston's 
invitation  to  accompany  him  on  this  mission.  Just  before 
entering  Mexican  territory  this  gentleman  had  procured  at  some 
point  accessible  to  the  blockade  runners,  a  very  beautiful  pair  of 
boots,  articles  then  extremely  scarce  in  the  Confederacy.  He 
prized  them  the  more  because  they  had  flaming  red  tops,  orna 
mented  with  showy  tassels.  On  the  second  or  third  day  after 
passing  the  Rio  Grande,  Preston's  party  was  halted  by  a  much 
larger  body  of  Mexicans,  who  announced  that  they  were  part 
of  the  command  of  General  Cortinas,  and  said  that  the  Americans 
must  go  with  them  to  the  camp  of  that  officer,  which  was  not  far 
distant.  As  no  attempt  was  made  to  disarm  the  escort,  and 
refusal  would  have  been  ill-advised,  General  Preston  at  once 


214  REMINISCENCES  OF 

replied  that  he  would  be  very  glad  to  wait  upon  General  Cortinas, 
and  the  two  parties  proceeded  accordingly  to  the  camp.  It 
seems  that,  on  that  day,  the  band  of  Cortinas  had  been  engaged 
in  a  skirmish  with  a  body  of  the  Imperialists,  and  had  taken 
several  French  prisoners,  all  of  whom  were  executed.  As  they 
rode  into  the  camp  they  saw,  suspended  to  a  tree  and  with  his 
throat  cut  from  ear  to  ear,  the  body  of  a  French  officer.  This 
was  very  shocking;  but  even  more  unpleasant  to  the  young 
man  who  had  obtained  the  boots  was  the  fact  that  the  dead 
man  had  on  a  pair  exactly  like  them,  with  equally  gorgeous  red 
tops.  He  reached,  at  once,  the  conclusion  that  the  officer  had 
been  butchered  because  of  the  boots,  and  anticipated  a  like  fate 
for  himself. 

Cortinas  received  the  party  courteously,  but  expressed  a  desire 
to  know  the  reason  of  their  coming,  and  hinted  that  something 
might  be  expected  in  the  way  of  compensation  for  his  good  offices. 
General  Preston  did  not  feel  obliged  to  inform  the  guerrilla  chief 
that  he  was  on  his  way  to  open  negotiations  with  Maximilian, 
and  simply  said  that  many  people  might  be  compelled  to  abandon 
their  homes  in  the  Confederacy  and  seek  refuge  in  Mexico,arid 
that  he  was  visiting  the  country  in  advance  to  learn  where  and 
upon  what  terms  they  would  be  permitted  to  establish  their 
settlements.  He  added  that  he  was  prepared  to  pay  a  reasonable 
sum  for  a  guarantee  from  all  molestation,  if  General  Cortinas 
could  furnish  it.  Cortinas  answered  that  he  could  make  an 
arrangement  to  that  effect  which  would  be  binding  on  his  own 
side,  and  a  bargain  was  struck  on  better  terms  than  Preston  had 
expected.  Cortinas  then  gave  orders  that  his  guests  should  be 
properly  entertained;  but  the  young  man  with  the  boots  had 
unaccountably  disappeared.  After  diligent  search,  however,  he 
was  discovered  in  a  thick  clump  of  bushes,  apparently  in  the 
agonies  of  cramp  colic.  But  he  had  pulled  off  and  hidden  his 
boots.  Cortinas  was  much  diverted  when  the  cause  of  the 
young  fellow's  apprehension  was  explained,  and  requested 
Preston  to  assure  him  that  no  one  in  his  band  should  take  liber 
ties  with  either  his  boots  or  his  throat. 

Upon  his  arrival  at  the  City  of  Mexico,  General  Preston 
found  little  in  the  situation  that  was  encouraging.  Those  who 
were  advising  Maximilian  had  little  time  or  inclination  to 


GENERAL  BASIL    W.  DUKE  215 

consider  any  matter  not  immediately  connected  with  local  affairs. 
It  was  apparent,  also,  that  the  policy  of  the  de  facto  Mexican 
government  in  any  matter  of  importance  would  be  dictated  by 
France.  In  a  short  time  therefore  he  sailed  for  Europe,  perhaps 
in  order  to  ascertain  if  anything  might  be  accomplished  by  appli 
cation  to  those  who  were  really  potential.  Any  definite  plan, 
however,  which  may  have  been  contemplated  was  frustrated 
by  the  desperate  fortunes  of  the  Confederacy.  He  was  in  Eng 
land  when  he  learned  of  the  surrender  of  the  Confederate  armies 
and  the  dissolution  of  his  government.  In  a  few  months  there 
after  he  returned  to  his  home  in  Kentucky. 

Fortunately,  his  estate  had  not  been  much  impaired  during 
his  absence.  It  was  of  such  nature  and  so  situated  that  it  was 
not  injuriously  affected  by  the  four  years  of  warfare,  so  disas 
trous  to  the  greater  number  of  those  who  had  served  the  Confed 
eracy.  He  was  able,  therefore,  to  enjoy  very  much  the  same 
social  life  he  had  led  in  ante-bellum  days,  and  continue  the 
amenities  in  which  he  excelled,  and  without  which  existence 
to  him  would  doubtless  have  been  very  distasteful.  He  was  a 
generous  host  to  his  less,  fortunate  comrades,  and  a  kind  friend, 
always  evincing  the  warmest  interest  in  their  welfare  and  all 
that  concerned  them.  He  sometimes,  too,  gave  very  excellent 
advice.  One  of  his  oldest  friends,  and  a  companion  in  arms  in 
the  Mexican  War,  Gen.  John  S.  Williams,  came  on  one  occasion 
to  consult  him  as  to  whether  he  (Williams)  should  accept  the 
agency  of  a  life  insurance  company,  with  a  good  salary,  which 
had  been  offered  him.  Williams  had  once  been  in  affluent 
circumstances,  but  the  close  of  the  war  found  him  without  a 
penny.  He  liked  the  salary  well  enough,  but  thought  the  employ 
ment  rather  undignified  for  one  so  distinguished  as  himself. 

"  Now,  my  dear  fellow,"  said  Preston,  "  don't  hesitate.  Accept 
the  position  at  once,  and  especially  the  salary.  A  man  situated 
as  you  are,  and  who  has  served  his  country  so  well,  should  be 
willing  to  do  anything  that  pays  well,  provided  it  isn't 
indictable." 

But  while  his  property  was  not  diminished  in  value,  much  of 
it  was  in  such  shape  that  he  became  necessarily  involved  in 
extensive  litigation.  He  did  not  regret,  but  rather  enjoyed 
this,  for  it  gave  him  employment,  and  he,  in  great  measure, 


2i6  REMINISCENCES  OF 

managed  his  own  lawsuits;  disproving,  by  the  way,  the  old 
adage,  that  "A  man  who  is  his  own  lawyer  has  a  fool  for  a 
client,"  for  he  was  almost  invariably  successful.  His  interest 
in  public  affairs,  however,  was  unabated,  and  he  took  an  active 
and  important  part  in  the  effort  to  rescue  the  state  from  the 
dangerous  civil  dissension  which  threatened  her  peace  and  pros 
perity  after  the  close  of  the  war,  and  which  was  successfully 
consummated  in  1867. 

In  the  states  which  had  constituted  the  Confederacy,  that 
element  of  the  population  which  adhered  to  the  Union  was  scanty 
in  numbers  and,  as  a  rule,  not  very  respectable  in  either  intelli 
gence  or  character.  The  great  majority  of  the  better  class  of 
people  in  those  states,  whether  rich  or  poor,  and  almost  every 
man  of  repute,  had  been  intensely  Southern  in  feeling  and  with 
few  exceptions  had  served  in  the  Confederate  army.  Conse 
quently  when  the  effort  for  Southern  independence  failed,  that 
class  was  universally  under  suspicion  and  political  disability; 
it  was  not  only  disfranchised,  but  completely  without  represen 
tation  and  support  both  at  home  and  in  Congress.  During 
the  period  when  there  was  virtually  no  local  civil  government 
in  any  Southern  state,  and  later  when  the  reconstruction  measures 
were  in  effect,  no  Southern  white,  not  absolutely  alien  in  sym 
pathy  and  malignant  in  feeling  to  almost  every  other  white  per 
son  in  the  community  in  which  he  lived,  was  permitted  to  hold 
any  official  position  or  perform  any  official  act.  Those  who  were 
invested  with  such  authority  claimed  the  widest  latitude  in  its 
exercise  and  were  held  to  no  responsibility.  How  that  authority 
was  abused  may  therefore  be  imagined  when  it  is  remembered  that 
the  "scalawag"  hated  the  "rebel"  with  an  inveterate  rancour, 
and  the  "carper-bagger"  was  unwilling  to  diminish  his  own 
importance  and  profit  by  any  concession  to  those  under  the  ban. 

But  in  Kentucky  the  difference  of  opinion  upon  questions 
connected  with  the  war  and  the  resulting  division  in  sentiment 
pervaded  the  entire  population,  comparatively  unaffected  by 
the  controlling  considerations  which  had  operated  to  make 
the  South  so  nearly  unanimous.  Antecedent  views  and 
relations  seemed  to  have  little  effect.  Some  of  the  largest 
slave-holders  were  the  most  determined  opponents  of  se 
cession.  Men  between  whom  not  only  the  closest  personal 


GENERAL  BASIL    W.  DUKE  217 

friendship  and  community  of  interest  but  a  perfect  agreement 
on  all  political  questions  had  prevously  existed,  separated  and 
were  arrayed  against  each  other  on  this.  Stranger  still,  men 
who  had  always  previously  been  in  opposing  political  camps, 
suddenly  found  themselves  ranked  together.  Ardent  Whigs, 
who  had  contemplated  with  favour  schemes  of  "gradual  emanci 
pation,"  became  intense  Southern  sympathizers;  fire-eating 
Democrats,  who  had  denounced  any  suggestion  that  slavery 
should  be  confined  to  the  territory  where  it  was  already  recog 
nized,  as  an  abolition  device,  became  unconditional  Unionists. 
The  cleavage  followed  no  definite  line.  Families  were  divided, 
son  against  father,  brother  against  brother.  On  more  than  one 
field  Kentuckians  fell  in  fratricidal  combat,  and  the  best  blood 
of  the  state  was  freely  given  upon  both  sides  in  the  quarrel. 

Quite  naturally,  therefore,  the  animosities  engendered  by  the 
war  were  not  so  unrelenting  in  Kentucky  as  in  the  states  where 
no  such  incentives  to  reconciliation  existed.  Mutual  respect 
and  the  inclination  bred  of  close  social  relations  made  possible 
a  coalition  between  a  great  number  of  those  who  had  stood  in 
opposing  ranks.  Many  of  them  resumed  their  former  friendly 
relations  immediately  upon  the  close  of  hostilities.  The  same 
was  true  of  many  who  had  enlisted  in  either  army,  but  whom 
the  war  had  estranged. 

The  Union  men  who  entertained  this  feeling  exceeded  in  num 
ber  those  who  were  malignant,  and  in  the  last  year  of  the  war  the 
resentment  of  the  radical  minority  was  directed  against  them 
more  bitterly,  if  possible,  than  against  men  of  avowed  South 
ern  proclivities. 

Of  the  hundreds  of  citizens  arrested  by  Burbridge  and 
imprisoned  or  banished,  many  were  Union  men.  Some  of  those 
he  shot  or  hanged  without  trial,  in  alleged  retaliation  for  guerilla 
outrages,  if  not  undoubtedly  "loyal,"  were  at  least  not  open 
and  undisguised  Southern  sympathizers.  It  is  said  that  an 
eminent  divine,  who  was  the  most  prominent  and  the  ablest 
leader  of  the  extreme  element,  advised  that  all  who  were  sus 
pected  should  be  dealt  with  alike,  pleasantly  suggesting  that  "if 
there  are  any  among  them  who  are  not  rebels  at  heart,  God  will 
take  care  of  them." 

Col.    Frank   Wolford,   famous   among   the   Kentuckians   who 


2i 8  REMINISCENCES  OF 

served  in  the  Federal  cavalry,  was '  placed  under  arrest  and 
threatened  'with  court-martial  for  having  in  a  public  speech 
"  spoken  disrespectfully  of  the  administration"  that  is  to  say 
having  deprecated  the  enlistment  of  negro  soldiers.  Col.  R.  T. 
Jacob,  another  gallant  Federal  officer,  was  arrested  for  some 
similiar  offence,  although  at  the  time  lieutenant-governor  of  the 
state,  and  sent  into  the  Confederate  lines.  A  policy  of  intimi-, 
dation  was  inaugurated  more  for  the  purpose  of  coercing  conser 
vative  Union  men  into  silence  and  submission  than  to  punish 
or  overawe  the  disloyal. 

Fortunately  the  conservative  Union  men  were  in  control 
of  the  state  government  and  had  the  nerve  and  sense  to  thor 
oughly  utilize  that  advantage.  They  welcomed  the  Kentu'ckians 
who  returned  home  from  service  in  the  Confederate  army,  not 
only  as  men  who  ought  to  be  restored  to  all  rights  of  citizenship, 
but  as  allies  from  whom  assistance  might  be  expected.  All 
disabilities  which  had  been  imposed  upon  them  by  state  legis 
lation  were  repealed,  and  every  assurance  given  that  no  man 
should  be  molested  for  past  political  conduct.  Gov.  Thomas 
E.  Bramlette,  in  a  special  message  to  the  legislature,  on 
December  9,  1865,  recommended  the  enactment  of  a  law  grant 
ing  pardon  for  all  belligerent  acts  committed  within  the  territory 
of  Kentucky  which  might  be  construed  as  acts  of  treason  against 
the  state;  and  a  measure  to  that  effect  was  promptly  passed  and 
approved. 

A  little  later  an  amnesty  measure  more  general  and  even  more 
complete  was  enacted,  and  one  of  incalculable  benefit  as 
preventing  prosecutions  of  both  Confederate  and  Federal  sol 
diers  from  which  bitter  and  dangerous  feeling  would  have  re 
sulted.  Upon  the  governor's  recommendation  the  legislature 
passed  "An  act  to  quiet  all  disturbances  growing  out  of  the 
late  rebellion."  It  provided,  "That  no  officer  or  soldier  of  the 
United  States  or  of  the  so-called  Confederate  states,  and  no 
person  acting  in  conjunction  with  or  cooperating  with  any  one 
of  them,  or  with  the  authorities  of  either  government,  shall 
be  held  responsible,  criminally  or  civilly,  in  the  courts  of  this 
state,  for  any  act  done  during  the  late  rebellion  by  command  of 
and  under  colour  of,  military  authority."  It  was  declared, 
"That  for  the  purposes  of  this  act  the  rebellion  shall  be  deemed 


GENERAL  BASIL    W.  DUKE  219 

to  have  commenced  on  the  ist  day  of  May,  A.D.  1861,  and  to 
have  terminated  on  the  1st  day  of  October,  A.D.  1865." 
This  measure  certainly  very  largely  contributed  to  the 
accomplishment  of  its  declared  purpose  "of  giving  tranquillity 
to  the  state." 

While  Kentucky  had  not  been  exempt  from  the  experiences 
of  actual  warfare  —  indeed,  had  witnessed,  on  a  small  scale,  a 
great  many  of  its  attendant  evils  —  her  territory  had  not  been 
occupied  by  the  contending  forces  in  large  numbers  for  any 
considerable  period,  and  had,  in  a  large  measure,  therefore, 
escaped  the  ravages  of  war.  But  although  spared  the  devasta 
tion  of  the  conflict,  her  people  shared  its  passions,  and  had  reason 
to  congratulate  themselves  that  the  leading  men  of  the  state, 
ignoring  past  differences,  were  practically  united  in  the  desire 
to  appease  resentment  and  effect  a  complete  amnesty  if  not 
entire  reconciliation.  Kentucky's  previous  attitude  of  obedience 
to  Federal  authority  and  adherence  to  the  Union,  whether  cor 
rectly  or  not  representing  the  real  and  general  sentiment  of  her 
people,  made  it  difficult  to  subject  her  to  the  same  treatment 
which,  maintained  for  so  many  years  after  the  termination  of 
armed  resistance,  very  nearly  destroyed  the  political  existence 
of  the  Southern  states.  There  can  be  no  doubt  that  the  ex 
tremists  of  the  Republican  party,  especially  after  Mr.  Lincoln's 
benevolent  and  restraining  influence  was  removed,  wished  to 
include  Kentucky  in  the  programme  of  proscription  intended 
for  all  who  felt  sympathy  for  the  South  and  disapproved  of  the 
radical  policy.  Slight  pretext  would  have  sufficed  to  cause 
these  men  to  visit  on  Kentucky  all  the  calamities  with  which 
they  scourged  the  South;  they  would,  had  occasion  offered,  have 
inflicted  upon  her  negro  domination,  the  greed  and  gripe  of  the 
carpet-bagger  and  the  other  features  of  "reconstruction" —  that 
terrible  aftermath  of  civil  strife  —  which  wrought  more  injury 
to  some  of  the  Southern  states  than  was  done  by  war  itself. 
Had  the  situation  in  Kentucky  been  other  than  it  was,  she  might 
have  been  compelled  to  pass  through  much  the  same  experience 
and  wait  as  long  for  the  restoration  of  better  feeling  and  normal 
conditions.  Had  those  who  were  in  control  of  the  state  govern 
ment  been  in  accord  with  the  fiercer  element  of  the  Republican 
party — that  element  which,  led  by  Thaddeus  Stevens,  completely 


220  REMINISCENCES  OF 

dominated  congress  —  an  excuse  would  probably  have  been 
found  to  deal  with  her  after  the  same  methods  so  relentlessly 
applied  in  the  South. 

The  commanders  of  the  military  forces  still  stationed  in  Ken 
tucky  and  the  officials  of  the  Freedman's  Bureau  acted  in  a 
manner  that  seemed  deliberately  intended  to  provoke  some  out 
break  which  might  be  construed  as  necessitating  the  employ 
ment  of  repressive  measures,  and  a  small  minority  of  the  Union 
men  encouraged  such  conduct.  But  the  state  officials,  a  de 
cided  majority  of  both  houses  of  the  legislature,  and  by  far 
the  greater  number  of  those  who  had  been  staunch  Unionists 
through  the  war,  regarded  with  no  favour  a  course  so  abhorrent 
to  the  mass  of  their  fellow-citizens.  The  so  nearly  equal  division 
of  sentiment,  which  at  the  beginning  of  the  war  seemed  to  be 
something  to  be  deplored,  proved  in  this  crisis  her  best  protec 
tion  against  the  dangers  which  were  threatening  every  former 
slave-holding  community. 

The  Southern  sympathizers  and  the  returned  Confederates 
were  of  course  inclined  to  act  in  unison  and  did  so.  All  of  them 
appreciated  the  generosity  as  well  as  wisdom  of  this  policy, 
and  understood  the  propriety  of  aiding  it  to  the  utmost.  Not 
withstanding  its  numerical  superiority  in  the  state,  the  conserv 
ative  Union  element  might  have  been  intimidated  by  threats 
of  violence  and  defeated  in  the  election  of  1865  and  1866  had 
not  the  Federal  soldiers,  who  shared  this  sentiment,  been  rein 
forced  at  the  polls  by  the  Confederates;  and  the  conservatives 
were  maintained  in  power.  The  disposition  upon  the  part  of 
the  Confederates  themselves  to  seek  office,  quite  natural,  per 
haps,  when  they  found  themselves  so  popular  with  the  majority 
of  the  people,  was  subordinated  to  the  main  and  most  impor 
tant  purpose  of  consolidating  all  the  elements  opposed  to  the 
radical  programme  into  one  strong  party. 

No  man  was  more  earnest  and  effective  in  this  work  than 
General  Preston.  His  previous  acquaintance  with  the  public 
men  of  the  state  of  all  parties,  and  the  high  estimate  in  which 
he  was  held  by  his  immediate  comrades  and  political  associates, 
qualified  him  better  than  any  other  man,  in  the  absence  of  John  C. 
Breckinridge,  to  bring  about  a  thorough  and  cordial  understand 
ing  among  those  whom  it  was  necessary  to  enlist  and  combine 


GENERAL  BASIL    W.  DUKE  221 

for  such  a  purpose.  All  reposed  confidence  in  his  ability,  public 
spirit,  and  fidelity  to  principle,  and  no  one  knew  better 
how  to  appeal  to  Kentuckians  who  loved  their  state  and 
desired  its  peace  and  prosperity. 

In  August,  1867,  the  Democratic  party,  as  it  was  entitled —  in 
reality  an  organization  composed  of  men  of  all  shades  of  political 
opinion,  yet  who  were  resolved  upon  absolute  and  general  am 
nesty,  and  entire  oblivion  of  every  thing  which  might  disturb 
harmonious  citizenship  —  nominated  as  its  candidate  for  gover 
nor  John  S.  Helm,  a  man  whose  high  character  and  recognized 
patriotism  was  a  guarantee  that  such  policy  would  be  faithfully 
observed.  He  was  elected  over  two  competitors,  representing 
every  element  of  opposition,  by  an  immense  plurality,  and  Ken 
tucky  was  rescued  from  all  danger  of  political  proscription  and 
any  resultant  trouble. 

With  the  exception  of  one  term  in  the  legislature,  which 
he  accepted  at  the  urgent  solicitation  of  his  fellow-citizens  of 
Lexington,  at  a  time  when  his  services  were  especially  needed, 
General  Preston  never  again  held  or  asked  office.  He  cared  no 
longer,  indeed,  for  official  preferment.  But  his  influence  in  the 
councils  of  his  party,  was  felt  so  long  as  he  lived,  and  was  always 
wisely  exercised;  and  no  one  was  more  earnestly  concerned  for 
the  welfare  and  complete  enfranchisement  of  the  Southern  people. 

His  warm  and  consistent  support  of  Tilden,of  whom  he  was  an 
intimate  friend  and  ardent  admirer,  was  largely  induced  by  his 
belief  that  the  policy  of  that  statesman  toward  the  South  would 
be  not  only  just,  but  generous.  He  advocated  an  endorsement 
of  Tilden  by  the  Kentucky  state  convention,  and  as  delegate 
to  the  Democratic  national  convention,  in  1880,  earnestly  urged 
his  renomination  for  the  Presidency.  Tilden's  broad  culture 
and  acute  political  understanding  appealed  strongly  to  his 
intellectual  sympathies,  and  the  action  of  the  convention  griev 
ously  disappointed  him.  This  was  his  last  active  participation 
in  politics,  although  his  advice  was  frequently  sought  and 
generally  heeded. 

General  Preston  retained  until  his  death  the  esteem  and  ad 
miration  of  the  public  and  the  sincere  affection  of  his  intimate 
associates.  To  the  last  he  was  an  exemplar  of  the  conduct  and 
the  characteristics  which  had  been  most  respected  in  his  youth. 


222  GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE 

In  his  exalted  idea  of  what  was  due  both  to  and  from  a  gentle 
man,  and  his  punctilious  insistence  on  the  observance  of  the  same 
rule  by  others,  he  was,  perhaps,  more  a  representative  of  an 
order  that  had  passed  away,  than  of  the  society  which  knew  him 
in  his  later  years. 


CHAPTER  XI 

ANY  attempt  to  describe  the  social   conditions    prevailing 
in  Kentucky  and  the    South    before  the    Civil    War  - 
that  epoch    which,  like    a  cataclysm,  divided    the    old 
order  from  the  new  —  without  mention  of  the  negro  as  he  was 
before  he  became  a  freedman,  must  necessarily  be  incomplete. 

The  "negro  question"  as  we  have  to  deal  with  it  to-day  is 
altogether  unlike  what  it  was  when  it  conduced  so  largely  to 
that  strife.  Quite  as  perplexing,  although,  we  hope,  not  nearly 
so  dangerous,  it  is  presented  in  a  totally  different  aspect.  Then 
it  was  a  sectional  issue,  now  it  is  a  national  problem.  When 
the  maintenance  or  the  extension  of  slavery  was  the  subject 
of  dispute,  the  negro,  as  an  individual,  a  personality,  was  a 
factor  hardly  taken  into  account.  The  institution  of  slavery 
as  it  affected  the  interests  or  might  shape  the  future  of  the 
white  race  —  as  it  might  operate  to  open  territory  to  occupation 
entirely  by  slave-holding  or  by  non-slave-holding  populations  — 
was  almost  exclusively  considered  in  the  discussion.  The  small 
minority  which  regarded  it  purely  from  a  philanthropic  point 
of  view  was  eloquent  and  insistent  but,  until  debate  was  suc 
ceeded  by  actual  combat,  was  heard  with  little  favour  or  patience 
by  the  other  disputants. 

So  long  as  slavery  existed  it  was  impossible  to  consider  the 
racial  question  except  in  its  economic  phases,  or  as  it  appealed 
to  the  more  benevolent  instincts  of  humanity.  The  negro  might 
be  treated  humanely  or  cruelly,  his  master  might  be  kindly  and 
considerate  or  harsh  and  unfeeling,  nevertheless,  as  he  concerned 
the  public  and  from  every  social  and  political  standpoint,  he 
was  regarded  simply  as  a  chattel. 

The  great  change  wrought  in  this  respect  by  the  enfranchise 
ment  of  the  black  man  and  his  elevation  to  the  rank  of  citizen 
and  voter  has  also  utterly  changed  not  only  his  former  relations 
with  the  Southern  whites,  but  the  feeling  with  which  the  white 
people  everywhere  regarded  him.  He  has  unquestionably 

223 


224  REMINISCENCES  OF 

gained  much  along  certain  lines,  but  he  has  lost  much  along 
others.  With  the  independent  action,  free  choice  of  employers, 
and  control  of  his  own  labour  now  permitted  him,  his  condition 
has,  of  course,  been  greatly  improved.  Yet  we. may  doubt  if 
even  the  better  opportunity  which  all  this  affords,  and  the  re 
spect  which  must  be  accorded  a  freedman,  entirely  compensates 
for  the  lack  of  the  tolerance  and  indulgence  which  was  formerly 
extended  him.  The  advance  made  by  many  of  the  race  in  edu 
cation  and  general  intelligence  has  been  extraordinary.  But 
a  much  greater  number  have  not  so  advanced,  while  they  have 
retrograded  in  morality  and  integrity.  The  political  rights 
granted  the  negro  have  done  him  little  benefit.  Suffrage  was 
given  him  suddenly  and  before  he  was  in  any  wise  prepared 
to  judiciously  or  safely  exercise  it.  With  no  previous  training, 
hereditary  or  individual,  he  was  entrusted  with  powers  on  the 
proper  use  of  which  good  government  depends,  and  was  expected 
to  use  them  wisely  —  something  the  Anglo-Saxon,  with  eight  hun 
dred  years  of  racial  experience,  has  scarcely  yet  learned  to  do. 

The  negro's  incapacity  properly  to  perform  the  duties  thus 
thrust  upon  him  was,  however,  nowhere  accepted  as  an  excuse 
for  their  mal-performance.  Many  of  those  who  professed 
themselves  his  friends,  and  perhaps  desired  to  aid  him,  seemed 
to  think  that,  when  he  had  been  given  the  ballot,  ample  pro 
vision  had  been  made  for  his  material  welfare.  It  is  not  sur 
prising  that  he  also  should  have  fallen  into  that  way  of  thinking, 
and,  like  many  white  men,  have  reached  the  conclusion  that  the 
best  use  that  could  be  made  of  a  vote  was  to  sell  it.  In  the 
Southern  states  where,  during  the  reconstruction  period,  the 
negro  became  the  dangerous  tool  of  certain  thoroughly  unscrupu 
lous  white  politicians,  negro  suffrage  wrought  well-nigh  irre 
trievable  disaster.  So  menaced,  such  a  people  wasted  little 
time  in  inquiring  whether  the  evil  inflicted  on  them  was  induced 
by  ignorance  or  malice,  but  sought  and  applied  remedies  sharp, 
drastic,  and  decisive.-  The  result  is  epitomized  in  one  of  Private 
John  Allen's  best  stories. 

A  certain  candidate,  he  said,  told  an  old  negro,  whose  support 
he  was  soliciting,  that  his  opponent  had  declared  that  a  "nigger 
had  no  more  right  to  vote  than  a  mule."  "Now,  Uncle  Lige," 
he  asked,  "what  do  you  think  of  that?" 


GENERAL  BASIL    W.  DUKE  225 

"Well,  master,"  Uncle  Lige  answered,  "I  don't  know  whether 
a  nigger  ain't  got  no  more  right  to  vote  den  a  mule  or  not.  But 
I  know  he  ain't  got  much  more  chanst  to  vote  den  a  mule." 

The  "wards  of  the  nation"  had  reason  at  one  time  to  regret 
that  their  tutors  had  included  politics  in  the  curriculum  adopted 
for  their  instruction;  but  the  matter  became  alarming  when  the 
example  so  furnished  was  copied  in  localities  and  under  circum 
stances  where  no  conceivable  excuse  for  such  policy  was  offered, 
and  it  became  the  practice  to  "count  out  "white  as  well  as 
black  men. 

But  I  wish  to  describe  the  negro  as  I  knew  him  au  naturel, 
so  to  speak;  as  I  remember  him  before  and  during  the  war, 
and  antecedent  to  the  time  when  freedom  had  transformed  and 
politics  had  demoralized  him. 

I  have  little  personal  knowledge  of  the  conditions  of  slavery 
as  it  existed  in  the  extreme  Southern  states  nor  of  the  character 
and  habits  of  the  negroes  employed  upon  the  large  sugar  and 
cotton  plantations.  From  what  I  have  been  told  by  those  who 
were  better  informed,  I  am  of  the  opinion  that  the  servitude 
there  was  sterner  and  less  relieved  by  the  ameliorating  features 
which  in  the  border  slave  states  contributed  to  mitigate  its 
harshness.  In  the  far  South  and  on  the  very  large  plantations, 
where  the  slaves  were  counted  by  the  score,  the  proprietors 
and  masters  were  absent  from  their  homes  during  a  considerable 
part  of  each  year;  and,  even  when  present,  saw  little  of  the 
slaves,  leaving  their  care  and  management  almost  entirely  to 
the  overseers.  The  labour  upon  these  plantations  was  also 
more  severe,  constant,  and  exhausting  than  upon  the  farms  in 
the  states  with  more  temperate  climates  and  where  cereal  crops 
were  chiefly  grown.  Under  such  conditions  the  negro's  stand 
ard,  both  of  intelligence  and  character,  was  necessarily  lower 
than  it  was  in  the  communities  where  circumstances  permitted 
a  treatment  more  favourable  to  his  comfort  and  improvement. 
Furthermore,  the  frequent  importation  into  that  region  of  the 
more  vicious  negroes  from  the  border  states,  sold  to  work  on  the 
plantation  as  a  punishment  for  incorrigibly  bad  conduct,  was  a 
constant  cause  of  demoralization  to  those  among  whom  they 
were  sent. 

With  all   this,  however,  the  stories    told   by  Northern  ante 


226  REMINISCENCES  OF 

bellum  writers  of  the  brutal  usage  of  the  slaves  in  those  states 
were  grossly  exaggerated;  and  it  may  be  confidently  asserted 
that  in  all  cases  wherein  they  were  treated  with  unreasonable 
severity  the  indignation  of  the  majority  of  the  whites  of  the 
community  was  emphatically  and  practically  exhibited  toward 
the  offenders. 

In  Kentucky,  Virginia,  Tennessee,  and  Missouri,  in  all  of 
which  states  I  had  ample  opportunity  of  becoming  personally 
and  accurately  acquainted  with  the  methods  by  which  the  master 
managed  his  slaves,  and  how  the  white  population  felt  and 
acted  toward  the  black,  I  can  conscientiously  testify  to  the 
kindness  and  consideration  which  the  latter  almost  invariably 
received.  It  must  be  remembered  that  the  people  of  the  states 
in  which  slavery  existed  at  the  date  when  the  question  of  its 
abolition  or  restriction  was  first  seriously  agitated,  were  respon 
sible,  in  far  less  degree,  for  its  establishment  on  this  continent 
than  were  those  who  had  become  their  censors.  They  had  taken 
little,  if  any,  part  in  the  "slave  trade,"  the  original  introduction 
of  the  negro  into  this  country,  and  the  imposition  of  his  servile 
condition.  A  very  considerable  number  of  the  negroes  held 
in  bondage  in  the  South  were  descendants  of  slaves  brought  to 
New  England  years  previously,  and  employed  in  Northern  and 
Eastern  states,  until  their  labour  ceased  to  be  so  profitable 
there,  and  then  sold  into  communities  where  it  commanded  a 
premium.  I  mention  this  oft-recited  and  well-established  fact, 
not  as  an  historical  gibe,  or  in  the  spirit  of  tu  quoque  contention, 
but  because  it  serves,  I  think,  to  strongly  rebut  the  presumption 
of  deliberate  inhumanity  or  conscious  wrong-doing  on  the  part 
of  the  Southern  slaveholder,  and  affords  reason,  therefore,  for 
the  supposition  that  he  would  have  been  disposed  to  mitigate, 
rather  than  aggravate,  a  condition  so  unfortunate. 

No  argument  would  be  accepted  to-day  in  excuse  or  palliation, 
of  involuntary  servitude.  No  plea  in  justification  of  the  holding 
in  bondage  of  a  man  of  any  race  or  colour  would  be  listened  to. 
Yet  it  may  be  readily  understood  that  at  a  time  when  this 
form  of  slavery  —  which  not  long  before  had  been  universally 
sanctioned  and  was  not  yet  generally  condemned  —  seemed  to 
the  people  of  certain  localities  to  furnish  the  kind  of  labour  best 
adapted  to  their  wants,  they  should  have,  without  scruple, 


GENERAL  BASIL    W.  DUKE  227 

employed  it.  But,  although  slave  labour  was  greatly  desired  and 
sought  by  the  people  of  the  South,  and  was  esteemed  by  them  to 
be  the  most  valuable,  they  at  no  time,  as  I  have  said,  partici 
pated  in  or  approved  the  slave-trade.  While  willing  to  buy  and 
employ  negroes  already  in  slavery,  and  whose  manumission  was 
impracticable,  they  had  never  countenanced  the  importation 
of  the  native  Africans  for  that  purpose,  and  were  among  those 
who  most  earnestly  demanded  the  suppression  of  the  practice. 

There  may  seem,  and  be,  little  theoretical  difference  between 
the  crime  of  inaugurating  and  that  of  accepting  and  maintaining 
slavery,  but  when  the  manners  and  the  opinions  of  the  age  are 
considered,  it  is  not  difficult  to  believe  that  the  man  who  erred 
in  the  latter  respect  might  be  less  cruel  and  more  humane  than 
he  who  made  the  system,  with  all  of  its  attendant  evils,  possible. 
Such,  at  least,  was  the  sincere  conviction  of  the  slaveholders 
of  the  South.  They  honestly  believed  that  they  were  guiltless, 
but  realized  their  duty  to  make  the  condition  of  the  negro  better. 
With  rare  exceptions  they  strove  to  do  this.  It  would  be  pal 
pably  unjust  to  censure  a  man  who  commits  an  act  not  accounted 
wrong  by  the  code  and  civilization  of  the  age  in  which  he  lives, 
so  severely  as  it  would  be  proper  to  visit  it  on  the  man  who  does 
the  same  thing  after  a  more  advanced  and  enlightened  senti 
ment  has  branded  it  as  a  crime.  In  process  of  time,  perhaps, 
war  for  any  provocation  —  warfare  between  rival  nations  and 
antagonistic  peoples  —  will  come  to  be  regarded  as  the  direst 
crime  that  can  be  perpetrated  against  humanity.  But  so  long 
as  it  is  recognized  as  the  ultima  ratio  regum;  as  it  is  esteemed 
justifiable  in  cases  of  last  resort,  only  a  visionary  dreamer  will 
hold  the  soldier  who  slays  a  foe  in  battle  to  be  as  criminal  or 
as  wicked  as  the  homicide  who  takes  life  for  personal  animosity 
or  gain.  The  man  who  does  a  wrong  ignorantly  or  not  in  viola 
tion  of  the  code  of  ethics  he  has  been  taught,  is  neither  morally 
so  bad  nor  necessarily  so  depraved  as  the  man  who  sins  consciously 
and  in  defiance  of  the  law  he  knows.  Even  when  he  errs  much 
good  may  be  expected  of  him. 

A  great  number  of  the  slaves  held  in  Georgia  and  the  Caro- 
linas  at  the  date  of  the  Civil  War,  and  a  yet  greater  proportion 
of  those  in  Virginia,  Kentucky,  and  Tennessee,  had  been  in 
herited  by  their  owners.  They  and  their  ancestors  had  belonged 


228  REMINISCENCES  OF 

to  the  same  families  for  two,  three,  or  more  generations.  For  these 
"  family  negroes  "  the  masters  entertained  not  only  a  warm  interest 
but  real  attachment,  and  this  sentiment  influenced  the  master's 
treatment  of  other  negroes  who  bore  to  him  no  such  relation. 

But  for  other  reasons,  chiefly  the  economic  one,  the  slaveholder 
was  disposed  to  treat  his  negroes  considerately.  If  a  mule 
valued  at  $150  was  worth  caring  for,  there  was  a  similar  and 
stronger  inducement  to  care  for  a  slave  worth  from  $800  to 
$1,000,  and  some  pains  would  be  taken  to  keep  him  in  good 
health  and  serviceable  condition.  A  selfish  concern,  therefore, 
as  well  as  a  certain  sentimental  regard,  operated  to  protect  the 
negro,  in  a  great  measure,  from  wanton  injury  or  abuse.  I 
think  this  was  more  particularly  the  case  in  the  border  states 
where  the  blacks  were  not  so  numerous.  No  individual  slave 
holder  in  the  Bluegrass  region  of  Kentucky,  in  which  I  was  reared, 
held  at  any  time  a  considerable  number  of  slaves,  but  many 
of  the  farmers  there  owned  six,  eight,  or  ten. 

Two  of  my  uncles,  with  whom  I  passed  much  of  my  boyhood 
after  the  death  of  my  parents,  were  the  largest  slaveholders 
whom  I  knew  in  that  country.  Each  of  them  had  a  farm  of 
about  a  thousand  acres,  and  owned  sixty  or  eighty  slaves.  Know 
ing  these  negroes  as  I  did,  during  my  childhood  and  youth,  and 
those  on  the  farms  immediately  adjoining,  I  became  well  ac 
quainted  with  their  peculiar  characteristics,  and  can  perfectly 
remember  them.  Subsequent  observation  convinced  me  that 
the  darkeys  who  were,  after  a  fashion,  my  companions  at 
that  day,  were  genuine  types  of  their  race.  These  negroes 
were  well  cared  for  and  kindly  treated,  and  were  unquestionably 
the  most  contented  and  jolliest  human  beings  I  ever  saw.  They 
were  kind-hearted,  docile,  and,  in  their  way,  quite  honest.  If 
they  occasionally  appropriated  articles  belonging  to  their  masters 
it  was  upon  the  theory  that  it  was  "all  in  the  family,"  and  that 
they  were  entitled  to  a  certain  share  of  what  was  produced 
on  the  farm  and  by  their  labour.  Unless  the  offence  was  un 
usually  audacious  the  master  generally  regarded  the  matter 
in  the  same  light,  and  was  not  inclined  to  punish  the  culprit. 

The  cabins  in  the  negro  quarters  were  rude  but  comfortable 
structures,  usually  built  of  logs,  and  affording  substantial  pro 
tection  from  the  weather.  The  cottages  provided  for  servants 


GENERAL  BASIL    W.  DUKE  229 

habitually  engaged  in  household  work,  or  for  some  who  were 
especial  favourites,  often  constituted,  with  their  small  but  well- 
kept  gardens,  quite  attractive  abodes. 

I  am  quite  sure  that,  as  an  almost  universal  rule,  the  slaves 
were  well  housed,  comfortably  clothed,  and  bountifully  fed. 
I  do  not  remember  to  have  ever  heard  one  complain  of  short 
rations,  and  have  more  than  once  seen  three  or  four  of  them  eat 
more  food  at  one  meal  than  would  have  been  furnished  —  at 
the  latter  part  of  the  war  —  to  a  platoon  of  Confederate  soldiers. 
Nor,  so  far  as  my  observation  extended,  were  they  overtasked, 
or  required  to  labour  more  than  eight  or  ten  hours  a  day.  In 
Kentucky,  and  I  believe  it  was  the  custom  throughout  the  South, 
the  "dinner  horn"  was  blown  at  noon,  and  the  negroes,  however 
employed,  came  to  the  "quarters"  for  their  mid-day  meal. 
Upon  the  farm  on  which  I  was  raised,  a  big  couch  shell  was  used 
for  the  dinner  signal  instead  of  a  horn.  A  houseboy,  who  had 
been  christened  by  his  mother  Peregrine  Pickle  —  which  she 
thought  a  very  becoming  name  —  was,  for  many  years,  in  charge 
of  this  instrument.  Punctually  at  twelve  o'clock  Perry  would 
brace  himself  against  the  wall  of  the  kitchen,  place  the  shell 
to  his  lips,  and  send  forth  a  sonorous  summons  which  seemed 
to  promise  corn-bread,  bacon,  and  cabbage  to  every  hungry 
stomach  in  the  county.  Almost  before  the  echoes  died  away  a 
troop  of  jocund  darkeys  would-  flock  in  from  the  fields,  some 
riding  the  farm  horses  or  mules,  which  were  also  brought  in  to 
be  fed,  and  all  gabbling  and  guffawing,  as  if  the  quantity  of  vict 
uals  each  would  be  permitted  to  consume  depended  on  the 
volume  of  noise  he  could  make. 

On  nearly  every  farm  in  the  neighbourhood  with  which  I  was 
best  acquainted,  the  negro  men  were  allowed  to  cultivate 
small  patches  of  ground  for  their  own  benefit,  and  the  negro 
women  raised  poultry.  The  sale  of  the  vegetables,  chickens, 
and  eggs  so  produced  furnished  them  with  money  for  their 
Sunday  clothes  and  Christmas  revelry. 

The  Kentucky  farmers  killed  and  cured  the  hogs,  which  sup 
plied  the  greater  part  of  their  meat  consumed  during  each  year, 
when  the  first  real  cold  weather  set  in.  "Hog-killing  time" 
was  an  important  event,  therefore,  and  it  was  not  easy  to  de 
termine  whether  the  negroes  or  the  small  white  boys  most 


230  REMINISCENCES  OF 

enjoyed  it.  Long  before  daybreak  an  immense  fire  of  logs  would 
be  blazing  near  the  hog-pen,  on  which  large  stones  were  placed. 
When  these  stones  were  heated  red-hot  they  were  thrown  into 
big  troughs  filled  with  water,  and  as  soon  as  the  water  was  at 
boiling  pitch  the  carcasses  of  the  slaughtered  hogs  would  be 
placed  in  the  troughs  and  kept  there  until  the  hair,  thoroughly 
scalded,  could  be  readily  scraped  off.  Then  the  carcasses  would 
be  hung  up  on  stout  gross  poles  and  disembowelled,  preparatory 
to  being  taken  to  the  "  meathouse"  to  be  cut  up  into  hams, 
chines,  sides,  and  sausage  meat.  Much  else,  also,  that  was  edi 
ble,  did  that  useful  animal  provide.  Even  while  the  work  was 
in  progress,  hogs'  tails  and  livers  were  broiled  on  the  big  fire 
and  eaten  with  a  relish  that  only  the  small  white  boy  and  the 
adult  darkey  can  experience.  We  were  wont  also  on  such  occa 
sions  to  procure  our  stock  of  "bladders,"  which,  inflated  and 
hung  up  in  the  garret  to  dry,  were  relied  upon,  in  those  com 
paratively  primitive  times,  to  produce  the  quantum  of  noise 
without  which  Christmas  would  have  scarcely  realized  the  bright 
expectations  of  boyhood. 

But  when  Christmas  came,  all  the  black  folk  and  all  the  small 
white  fry  fraternized  in  an  acme  of  enjoyment.  The  frolics  at 
the  quarters  usually  began  about  midnight  on  Christmas  eve, 
and  continued  throughout  the  night  and  until  the  next  evening. 
On  Christmas  morning,  before  the  eastern  sky  grew  gray  or  the 
stars  had  lost  their  lustre,  the  revels  were  at  their  height.  In 
addition  to  the  good  things  the  negroes  themselves  provided,  a 
fair  share  of  the  cake  and  eggnog  made  for  the  white  people 
was  always  supplied  them,  and  master  and  overseer  alike  would 
wink  at  a  negro  drinking  some  whiskey  on  Christmas,  although 
they  might  tolerate  it  at  no  other  time. 

To  the  white  boys  in  the  "big  house,"  who  had  lain  awake 
throughout  the  night  in  anticipation  of  the  signal,  the  first  ob 
streperous  burst  of  African  mirth  was  an  irresistible  call.  Strict 
orders  were  usually  given  us  upon  the  previous  night  not  to 
visit  the  quarters  in  the  morning,  but  obedience  to  such  injunc 
tions  was  impossible;  indeed,  I  think  it  was  not  really  expected, 
for  we  were  never  reprimanded  when  we  disobeyed,  which  we 
invariably  did.  Snatching  up  our  packs  of  firecrackers  and 
everything  else  with  which  we  could  hope  to  swell  the  clamour, 


GENERAL  BASIL    W.  DUKE  231 

we  would  make  a  bee-line  for  the  cabins.  The  big  logs,  glowing 
and  roaring  in  the  wide  fireplaces,  threw  dazzling  gleams  from 
the  open  doors  and  windows  far  out  into  the  night.  Dancing, 
shouting,  screaming  with  laughter,  men,  women,  and  "little 
niggers"  were  wild  with  joy.  When  occasionally  a  big  fire 
cracker  exploded  among  the  dancers,  or  a  bladder  stamped  on 
by  sturdy  feet  boomed  like  a  small  piece  of  artillery,  the  women 
would  shriek  in  simulated  fright,  and  the  delight  of  the  specta 
tors  was  unbounded.  Thus,  without  cessation,  the  merriment 
—  this  howling  paradise  —  was  continued  until  the  morning 
sun  .smiled  upon  the  scene. 

It  has  been  customary  to  describe  the  negro,  when  in  slavery, 
as  idle  and  shiftless.  There  has  never  existed  a  people,  perhaps, 
which  would  not  have  been  "shiftless"  if  maintained  in  a  state 
of  constant  dependence;  required  to  take  no  thought  of  the 
morrow,  cared  for  like  children,  assured,  no  matter  what  change 
came  to  them,  of  food,  shelter,  and  clothing,  of  all  necessary 
provision  when  in  health,  and  of  medical  attention  when  ill. 

But  many  of  them  were  not  idle;  and  those  who  were  placed 
in  positions  of  trust  and  quasi-responsibility  were  not  only 
themselves  industrious,  but  were  very  exacting  of  proper  at 
tention  to  duty  on  the  part  of  others.  As  I  have  said,  I  knew 
little  of  the  conditions  obtaining  on  the  large  Southern  planta 
tions,  but  have  often  heard  that  the  black  foremen  —  the 
"drivers"  —  were  stricter  in  compelling  labour  from  those 
under  them  than  were  the  white  overseers. 

That  the  average  negro  —  that  much  the  greater  number  of 
them  -  vastly  preferred  leisure  to  labour  is  an  undeniable 
fact.  But  the  same  thing  may  be  said  of  very  many,  if  not  a 
majority,  of  every  race.  Many  white  men  are  indolent,  although 
feeling  an  incentive  to  exertion  which  was  not  offered  the  black 
slave.  It  must  be  remembered,  also,  that  the  negroes,  as  a  race, 
slightly  appreciated  and  had  scarcely  yet  learned  to  work. 
They  were  removed  only  five  or  six  generations  from  the  savage  — 
from  the  native,  naked  African  —  who  deemed  work  the  direst 
affliction  humanity  could  suffer.  Emancipation  has  opened 
an  immense  opportunity  to  the  negro,  and  I  believe  it  will  ulti 
mately  be  improved.  Slavery  undoubtedly  arrested  his  develop 
ment  at  a  certain  point,  but  its  discipline  was  of  incalculable 


232  REMINISCENCES  OF 

racial  advantage.  The  number  of  vicious  negroes  among  the 
slaves  was  not  so  large  as  is  the  criminal  class  of  the  freed  blacks. 

The  negro  of  to-day  may  differ  from  the  ante-bellum  darkey 
very  slightly  in  his  love  of  fun  and  sense  of  humour,  but  he 
certainly  fails  to  give  it  the  same  quaint  and  ludicrous  expression. 
An  experience  of  the  harder  realities  of  life  seems  to  have  dulled 
his  capacity  for  finding  enjoyment  in  the  things  which  formerly 
amused  him,  and  "book-learning"  has  made  him  strained  and 
affected  where  he  was  formerly  simple  and  natural.  There  was 
an  essentially  practical  flavour  in  the  dry  witticisms  of  the  plan 
tation  darkey,  a  subtle  recognition  of  human  nature  in  his  sly 
satire,  and  a  real  and  keen,  although  limited,  perception  of 
individual  character. 

The  negro  humour  was  most  mirth-provoking  when  it  was 
evidently  unconscious,  and  he  had  a  more  than  Irish  faculty 
for  blundering  that  was  ludicrous  indeed,  but  sometimes  con 
veyed  his  meaning  more  perfectly  than  he  could  have  expressed 
it  in  any  other  form.  His  aptitude  for  making  excuses,  fre 
quently  unsatisfactory,  but  almost  always  ingenious,  was  un 
rivalled.  I  once  heard  Mr.  Davis  tell  a  story  that  well  illustrated 
the  confidence  with  which  an  old-time  darkey,  who  knew  himself 
to  be  a  favourite,  would  undertake  to  defend  a  manifest 
delinquency. 

Mr.  Davis  was  commenting  on  two  curiously  inconsistent 
reports  upon  the  same  matter,  submitted  to  him  by  a  certain 
official,  and  which  seemed  to  amuse  him  greatly.  He  was 
reminded,  he  said,  of  how  a  negro  who  had  been  his  especial 
attendant  on  his  Mississippi  plantation  was  accustomed  to  excuse 
the  shortcomings  of  which  he  was  often  guilty.  One  of  the 
duties  of  this  servant,  whose  name,  I  believe,  was  Tom,  had 
been  to  make  the  fire  in  his  master's  bedroom  during  cold 
weather.  The  fireplace,  like  all  those  in  the  old  Southern  man 
sions,  was  commodious  and  the  only  fuel  used  was  wood.  On 
some  mornings  Tom  would  bring  in  logs  of  very  inconvenient 
length;  so  much  so  that  while  one  end  of  a  log  was  burning  the 
other  would  extend  out  some  distance  on  the  hearth.  When  Tom's 
attention  would  be  called  to  this  misfit  he  would  answer:  "Marse 
Jeff,  you  oughtn't  to  blame  me;  it's  dis  fireplace.  Dis  fireplace 
is  entirely  too  narrer."  On  the  very  next  morning,  perhaps, 


GENERAL  BASIL    W.  DUKE  233 

he  would  furnish  logs  too  short  to  remain  in  position,  and  would 
fall  between  the  irons.  Mr.  Davis  would  gravely  point  out  this 
negligence,  but  Tom,  with  an  air  of  injured  innocence,  would 
promptly  respond:  "Marse  Jeff,  dey  ain't  no  use  in  blamin' 
me;  de  whole  trouble  is  wid  dis  fireplace;  dis  fireplace  is  en 
tirely  too  wide." 

Judging  by  the  relish  with  which  Mr.  Davis  told  this  story, 
one  might  have  been  justified  in  believing  that,  much  as  he  would 
have  liked  a  properly  constructed  fire,  he  decidedly  preferred 
Tom's  attempted  explanations. 

I  remember  vividly  an  incident  which  occurred  in  my  boyhood, 
when  I  was  living  in  the  Bluegrass  country,  and  in  which    the 
more  amusing  traits  of  the  negro  character  were  brought  out  in 
distinct  relief.     An  unusually  audacious  and  extensive  raid  had 
been  made  upon  the  watermelon  patch  of  one  of  my  uncles, 
and  a  brief  investigation  disclosed  the  fact  that  it  had  been 
planned  and  executed  by  some  of  the  younger  negroes.     The 
overseer,  who  was  a  rather  harsh  disciplinarian,  wished,  without 
further  inquiry,  to  flog  them  all,  but  my  uncle  would  not  consent 
to  this,  and  preferred  to  discover,  if  possible,  who  had  been  the 
most  guilty  and  the  leaders  in  the  enterprise.     A  formal  trial 
was  therefore  held,  and  all  of  the  evidence,  previously  heard, 
recapitulated,  with  as  much  more,  pro  and  con,  as  could  be  pro 
cured  or  suggested.     I  was  then  about  sixteen  years  old,  and  with 
a  cousin  of  the  same  age  volunteered  to  act  as  counsel  for  the 
accused.     We  were  each  burning  to  acquire  forensic  experience 
and  distinction,  and  entered  into  the  case  with  great  zeal.     A 
number  of  footprints  of  different  shapes  and  sizes  had  been  dis 
covered  in  the  patch,  some  of  shod  and  others  of  bare  feet.  The 
measurement  of  these  tracks  bore  hard  upon  the  prisoners  at 
the  bar,  because  closely  corresponding  with  that  of  their  shoes 
or  bare  feet.     It  became  a  matter,  therefore,  of  prime  importance 
with  the  defence  to  prove,  when  the  measurement  of  a  shod  track 
fitted  the  shoes  of  one  of  the  defendants,  that  he  had  not  worn 
his  shoes  on  that  night;   and,  per  contra,  to  prove    that  he  had 
been  shod  at  that  time,  if  his  bare  feet  resembled  in  conformation 
and  dimension  a  measured  track  of  that  kind.     It  was  very 
difficult  to  do  this  except  by  the  testimony  of  the  accused  them 
selves,  and,  of  course,  no  one  would  believe  that.     The  most 


234  REMINISCENCES  OF 

damaging  evidence  offered  for  the  prosecution  was  that  of  two 
of  the  crowd,  who  had  become,  so  to  speak,  state's  witnesses, 
claiming  that  their  connection  with  the  offence  was  of  an  ex 
tremely  slight  and  venial  nature.  One  of  them,  named  Toby, 
would  have  sworn  away  the  life  of  his  own  grandmother  if 
he  could  have  escaped  the  cowhide  in  no  other  way.  Upon 
cross-examination,  while  admitting  that  he  was  present  when 
the  melons  were  stolen,  he  denied  all  complicity  in  the  theft. 
"Didn't  you  take  one  of  the  melons  yourself?"  I  asked. 

"No,  suh,  I  nuvver  tuk  nothin'  outen  de  patch.  I  nuvver 
went  inside  of  de  patch.  De  mos'  I  done  wuz  to  ketch  hoi'. of  a 
watermillion  when  Dow  handed  it  over  de  fence."  The  other 
informer's  testimony  —  Sim  was  his  name  —  sealed  the  fate 
of  Dow,  the  one  of  all  my  clients  I  wished  most  to  save.  Sim, 
while  positively  declaring  that  he  himself  had  no  connection  with 
the  robbery,  seemed  cognizant  of  all  Dow's  movements  on  that 
occasion,  from  an  early  hour  in  the  afternoon  until  late  at  night, 
and  ingeniously  related  many  apparently  trivial  incidents  which, 
taken  together,  very  strongly  indicated  Dow's  guilt.  I  knew 
that  there  was  bad  blood  between  them,  but  when  I  tried  to 
make  Sim  acknowledge  this  he  swore  that  he  loved  Dow  rather 
better  than  a  brother.  One  of  the  tracks  made  by  bare  feet 
corresponded  exactly  with  Dow's  huge  and  ungainly  hoof,  and  Sim 
swore  that  Dow  had  gone  barefooted  during  the  entire  evening 
of  the  raid.  At  this  point  Dow's  patience  utterly  gave  way 
and  he  indignantly  shouted,  "I  wish  dat  lyin'  nigger  had'er 
said  I  wuz  wearin'  my  shoes.  I'd'er  proved  I  had  'em  locked 
up  in  my  chist." 

A  remark  made  by  an  elderly  negro,  after  the  trial  was  over, 
summed  up  all  the  philosophy  of  the  subject.  "When  water- 
millions  is  ripe,"  he  said,  "you  allus  gwine  to  find  niggers  close 
to  de  patch." 

All  who  served  in  the  Confederate  army  will  remember  that, 
however  much  the  soldiers  might  be  straitened  in  other  respects, 
almost  every  command  was,  for  the  two  first  years  of  the  war 
at  least,  well  supplied  with  negro  servants.  The  Second  Ken 
tucky  Cavalry,  which  I  commanded  for  more  than  a  year,  was 
abundantly  provided  in  this  regard.  The  darkeys  attached 
to  this  regiment  were  so  numerous  and  so  constantly  scurrying 


GENERAL  BASIL   W.  DUKE  235 

about  the  country  —  leaving  the  column  when  it  was  on  the 
march  or  running  out  of  camp  —  in  search  of  food  for  their 
masters  more  palatable  than  the  ordinary  ration,  that  I  was 
compelled  finally  to  take  measures  to  stop  a  practice  which  had 
become  a  nuisance.  I  organized  the  negroes  into  a  quasi-com- 
pany  and  placed  them  under  the  command  of  a  staid,  reliable 
negro  of  about  fifty  years  of  age,  who,  on  that  account,  acquired 
the  sobriquet  of  "Captain"  Jordan,  I  gave  Jordan  instructions 
to  keep  his  "command"  well  in  hand;  to  allow  not  more  than 
four  men  to  leave  at  one  time,  who  should  be  absent  not  more 
than  two  hours;  and  to  observe  this  rule,  with  certain  others 
which  were  indicated,  both  in  camp  and  on  the  march.  Jordan 
strictly  obeyed  the  instructions  given  him,  enforced  the  sternest 
discipline  in  every  respect,  and  became,  indeed,  a  fearful  mar 
tinet.  Those  under  him  used  to  say,  "Ef  you  wuz  burnin'  in 
torment  dat  ole  man  wouldn't  let  you  leave  de  ranks  to  git  a 
drop  of  water." 

When  the  soldiers,  desiring  to  have  their  negroes  go  after  a 
square  meal,  sought,  as  they  often  did,  to  have  him  relax  the 
rules,  he  would  answer  grimly,  "I  gits  my  orders  from  de  cunnel." 

I  remonstrated  with  him,  on  one  occasion,  for  having  punished, 
with  what  I  thought  undue  severity,  a  young  darkey  who  had 
been  guilty  of  some  breach  of  discipline.  "What  I  gwine  to 
do  wid  'em?"  he  said.  "Jess  let  'em  go  long  to  suit  deyselves?" 

"Oh,"  I  said,  "report  them  to  me  and  I'll  have  them  tried 
by  a  court-martial." 

"Now,  cunnel,"  he  replied  with  fine  scorn,  "what's  de  use  of 
you  talkin'  like  dat.  Youse  knowed  niggers  all  yo'  life.  Dey 
doan'  know  nothin'  'bout  no  cote-marshal,  and  dey  ain't  skeered 
of  it.  But  ef  you  warms  dey  hides  wid  a  switch,  dey  'predates 
de  'tention." 

When  Bragg  was  retreating  from  Kentucky  and  Morgan  was 
assisting  to  cover  the  rear  of  the  army  during  the  pursuit  of  the 
enemy,  which  was  kept  up  for  three  or  four  days,  we  were  con 
stantly  skirmishing  during  that  period,  and  exposed  at  times  to 
a  brisk  cannonading.  Jordan's  squad,  on  one  such  occasion, 
was  drawn  up  on  the  pike,  nearer  to  the  enemy  than  they  should 
have  been  and  a  smart  shower  of  shells  fell  around  them.  The 
darkeys  were  ashen  with  fright,  and  begged  piteously  to  be  taken 


236  REMINISCENCES  OF 

out  of  danger.  But  Jordan,  who  was  as  fearless  as  he  was  stern, 
stubbornly  refused  to  move,  because,  as  he  said,  he  "hadn't 
no  orders."  I  subsequently  complimented  him  on  his  courage, 
but  suggested  that  it  would  have  been  better  if  he  had  moved 
out  of  range. 

"Dar'  wan't  no  'casion  for  it,  "he  replied.  "Dem  fool  niggers 
wuz  skeered  mi'ty  nigh  to  death;  but  mos'  of  de  shells  'sploded 
way  up  in  de  a'r.  Only  three  of  'em  'sploded  on  de  pike,  and  dey 
didn't  bust." 

I  may  be  pardoned  for  thinking  that  the  best  specimen  of 
negro  logic  and  irony  that  I  can  remember  was  one  furnished 
by  an  old  negro  who  did  so  in  my  defence.  About  ten  years 
after  the  close  of  the  war  I  was  making  a  canvass  in  Louisville 
for  the  office  of  commonwealth's  attorney  for  that  judicial 
district.  My  opponent  was  also  a  Democrat,  but  at  that  date 
the  party  lines  were  not  strictly  drawn  and  nominations  were 
not  made,  and  he  believed,  with  reason,  that  he  could  carry 
the  negro  vote  against  me  because  of  my  having  been  a  Confed 
erate  soldier.  Some  of  his  more  zealous  and  unscrupulous 
friends  circulated  a  report  among  the  negroes  that  I  had,  during 
the  war,  cut  off  the  ears  of  unoffending  coloured  men  —  had 
perpetrated  such  mutilation  upon  a  great  number  of  them. 
They  were,  naturally,  profoundly  excited  and  angered  by  such 
a  story,  which  there  was  little  difficulty,  at  that  time,  in  making 
them  believe. 

To  the  great  disgust  and  irritation  of  the  others,  however, 
one  old  darkey  declared  his  disbelief  of  the  charge  and  his  in 
tention  to  vote  for  me.  A  large  deputation  of  coloured  brethren 
called  upon  him  to  protest  against  what  they  deemed  a  flagrant 
sin  and  infidelity  to  his  race.  He  listened  until  they  finished 
their  remonstrance,  and  then  quietly  but  firmly  replied: 

"You  niggers,"  he  said,  "is  all  wrong  about  dis.  Some  of 
de  white  folks  has  fooled  you.  I  doan'  know  Gin'rul  Duke  pus- 
sonally,  but  I  was  raised  up  whar  he  wuz  born  and  brung  up 
and  knowed  his  people  mi'ty  well,  and  dey  wan't  de  kind  of 
people  to  cut  off  niggers'  ears.  But  I'll  make  dis  bargain  wid 
you;  ef  you  kin  show  me  one  nigger  —  jess  one  —  who's  done 
had  one  ear  cut  off  —  I  won't  ax  for  bofe  —  den  I'll  agree  dat 
Gin'rul  Duke  cut  it  off,  and  I'll  vote  agin'  him.  But  onless  you 


GENERAL  BASIL    W.  DUKE 


237 


fetch  me  dat  nigger  wid  only  one  ear  I  ain't  er  gwine  to  b'leeve 
no  sich  tale." 

The  receptive  nature  of  the  negro  and  his  fervid,  emotional 
temperament  made  him  peculiarly  susceptible  to  religious  im 
pressions,  and  a  great  number  of  the  elderly  and  more  respectable 
negroes  of  both  sexes  professed  some  kind  of  religious  belief. 
It  would  not  have  been  easy,  however,  to  define  it.  There 
were  few  Presbyterians  among  them.  The  doctrines  of  Calvin 
were  not  readily  grasped  by  the  African  understanding,  and  the 
ascetism  of  such  a  creed  was  altogether  distasteful.  With  many, 
of  course,  " getting  religion"  was  a  mere  hysterical  fancy,  con 
ceived  under  excitement,  and  as  easily  forgotten.  Yet  I  re 
member  some  who,  I  believe,  entertained  sincere  and  intelligent 
religious  convictions. 

It  is  scarcely  necessary  to  say  that  they  were  extremely  su 
perstitious.  All  ignorant  people  are  so;  and  the  vivid  negro 
imagination  conjured  up  a  host  of  strange  myths  and  fears. 
They  talked  much  about  the  Devil,  not  only  as  a  personage  to 
whose  custody  they  might  be  consigned  in  the  future  life,  but  as 
one  whom  they  might  at  any  time  encounter  in  this  world. 
But  witches  and  ghosts  —  "sperits,"  the  latter  were  termed 
in  negro  parlance  —  were  the  chief  subjects  of  their  supersti 
tious  faith  and  awe.  I  could  never  clearly  comprehend  the 
negro's  idea  of  witches,  whether  he  believed  them  to  be  human 
beings  —  men  or  women,  who  had  in  some  strange  fashion,  by 
some  illicit  compact,  become  possessed  of  supernatural  or  pre 
ternatural  powers  —  or  believed  them  to  be  creatures  alien  to 
humanity,  something  like  the  fairies  of  European  folk-lore  and 
the  genii  of  Eastern  story. 

I  am  inclined  to  think  that  they  entertained  both  such  beliefs, 
but  without  attempting  to  distinguish  between  them.  The 
younger  negroes  frequently  spoke  of  some  very  aged  individual 
of  their  own  race  as  a  witch,  but  seemed  not  to  ascribe  any 
undue  wickedness  or  malevolence  to  the  persons  so  stigmatized, 
or  to  think  him  or  her  gifted  with  unusual  capacity  for  either 
good  or  evil. 

But  they  believed  in  another  kind  of  witch  —  a  sort  of  wood- 
sprite  —  which  performed  strange  and  mischievous  pranks. 
Horses  running  in  pastures,  partly  marshy  and  containing  brier 


238  REMINISCENCES  OF 

patches,  frequently  appeared  in  the  morning,  splashed  with  mud 
and  with  curious  tangles  in  their  manes.  The  slow-witted, 
unimaginative  white  man  supposed  that  the  animal  had  been 
wallowing  in  the  wet  ground  or  wandering  among  the  briers. 
But  the  intelligent  and  better-informed  darkey  discerned  im 
mediately  that  he  had  been  ridden  by  a  witch,  and  knew  that 
the  knots  and  tangles  in  his  mane  were  "witches'  stirrups." 

They  were  not  prone,  however,  to  form  or  to  express  such 
opinion,  when  a  horse  which  had  been  stabled  over  night  showed 
on  the  next  day  signs  of  having  been  hard-ridden.  If  any  darkey, 
especially  one  who  was  suspected  of  being  addicted  to  such 
practices,  ventured  the  suggestion  that  the  horse  had  been  witch 
ridden,  the  others  would  wag  their  heads  and  significantly 
remark,  "  I  reckon  dat  nigger  wuz  de  witch  hisself ." 

I  do  not  remember  any  trace  of  the  voodou  superstition,  so 
common  in  the  extreme  South,  among  the  Kentucky  negroes 
of  the  ante-bellum  period;  but  have  been  told  that  it  has  pre 
vailed  among  them,  to  some  extent,  since  the  war. 

The  belief  in  ghosts,  however,  was  universal  and  implicit. 
Every  deserted  house,  almost  every  secluded  and  weird-looking 
corner  of  the  forest  or  field,  was  supposed  to  be  haunted  by  some 
spirit  which  jealously  guarded  its  peculiar  premises  and  resented 
nocturnal  intrusion.  This  was  an  exceedingly  disagreeable 
feature  of  the  negro  superstition,  and  made  me,  when  as  a  boy 
I  listened  to  their  stories,  feel  very  uncomfortable.  "Doan 
you  nuvver  let  a  sperit  see  you,"  they  would  say.  "Ef  he  once 
sees  you,  he  gwine  to  allus  ha'nt  you."  Near  the  place  where 
I  was  born  two  duels  were  fought,  in  each  of  which  one  of  the 
combatants  was  killed.  There  was  a  difference  of  opinion  among 
the  darkeys  as  to  whether  these  spots  were  haunted  —  or  should 
properly  be  haunted  —  for  no  one  had  ever  seen  a  ghost  at  either. 
One  side  held  to  the  opinion  that  every  locality  where  a  violent 
death  had  occurred  was  always  and  necessarily  haunted  by  the 
spirit  of  the  person  who  had  so  suffered.  The  other  side  con 
tended  that  the  spirit  appeared  only  when  foul  murder  had  been 
done;  and  insisted  that,  "No  white  gen'elman  what  was 
killed  in  a  fa'ar  fight  would  'sturb  niggers  what  hadn't  done 
him  no  harm." 

A  warm,  reciprocal  attachment  almost    invariably  obtained 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  239 

between  the  family  negroes  and  the  white  people,  more  par 
ticularly  in  the  case  of  those  servants  who  were  especially  trusted 
by  their  masters.  So  much  has  been  written  about  the  fidelity 
and  devotion  of  the  old  "black  mammy,"  that  I  feel  that  little j 
can  be  said  on  the  subject,  and  I  will  only  avouch  that  it  cannot 
be  exaggerated.  The  love  of  these  old  nurses  for  the  children 
committed  to  their  care,  and  their  unremitting  attention  to  their 
wants,  could  not  have  been  exceeded  even  by  parental  feeling. 

The  most  remarkable  example  of  this  kind  that  I  ever  knew 
was  that  of  the  nurse  in  the  family  of  my  mother-in-law,  Mrs. 
Henrietta  Hunt  Morgan.  Bouvette,  or  "Aunt  Betty,"  as  we 
usually  called  her,  was  a  woman  of  strong  sense  and  extraor 
dinary  character  —  amiable,  sweet-tempered,  yet  very  firm  upon 
occasions,  and  imbued  with  a  truly  Christian  spirit.  She 
nursed  all  of  Mrs.  Morgan's  children  —  my  wife,  Mrs.  A.  P. 
Hill,  and  Mrs.  Morgan's  six  sons,  including  the  general.  To 
the  day  of  her  death,  they  regarded  her  as  a  monitress,  and 
repaid  her  care  with  the  warmest  affection.  Mrs.  Morgan 
regarded  her  more  as  friend  than  servant,  insisted  that  the  other 
servants  should  showr  her  every  respect  and  attention,  and  relied 
very  much  upon  her  advice  in  all  household  matters.  When 
Aunt  Betty  died  the  funeral  services  were  held  in  the  parlours 
of  Mrs.  Morgan's  home,  which  were  placed  at  the  service  of  the 
pastor  of  the  coloured  church  to  which  the  old  servant  belonged. 
Many  of  the  congregation  attended,  but  Mrs.  Morgan  especially 
requested  her  surviving  sons  and  myself  to  act  as  pallbearers, 
and  we  bore  the  good,  faithful  old  woman  to  her  grave. 

These  old  nurses,  although  very  indulgent  in  some  respects, 
were  autocratic  and  strict  in  all  matters  wherein  they  thought 
correction  necessary,  and  would  roundly  scold  the  young  ones 
under  their  charge  for  any  serious  misconduct.  They  sometimes 
asserted  this  privilege  even  after  the  children  they  had  nursed 
had  long  outgrown  their  care  and  authority.  But  they  resented 
such  interference  upon  the  part  of  others,  were  rather  jealous 
sometimes  of  even  the  exercise  of  parental  authority,  and  usually 
sought  to  screen  the  youngsters  from  punishment,  although  it 
might  be  richly  deserved.  On  the  contrary,  the  elderly  male 
servitors  who  occupied  responsible  posts,  the  gardener  or 
carriage  driver,  were  as  a  rule  offensively  officious  and  arbitrary 


24o  REMINISCENCES  OF 

-  at  least,  we  boys  thought  so  —  in  the  protection  of  everything 
about  which  they  could  possibly  claim  a  right  to  be  vigilant. 
If  a  boy  trespassed  on  the  strawberry  or  raspberry  patches,  loafed 
about  the  stables,  threw  a  stone  at  a  chicken,  or  chased  a  turkey 
until  it  took  refuge  in  a  tree,  one  of  these  argus-eyed  detectives 
would  almost  certainly  discover  and  report  the  offence,  and  mag 
nify  it  in  such  a  fashion  that  there  was  little  chance  of  the  offender 
escaping  punishment. 

During  much  of  the  Civil  War,  even  after  almost  the  entire 
South  had  been  occupied  by  the  invading  armies,  the  slaves 
conducted  themselves  in  a  manner  and  with  a  remarkable 
docility,  which  can  scarcely  be  understood  except  by  those 
well  acquainted  with  the  negro  character.  Not  only  in  Kentucky 
and  Tennessee  and  other  territory,  the  greater  part  of  which 
was  practically  lost  to  the  Confederacy  at  an  early  period  of 
the  struggle,  but  upon  the  more  Southern  plantations  where 
slight  protection  was  afforded  the  white  people,  the  negroes, 
with  few  exceptions  and  nearly  until  the  close  of  the  war,  re 
mained  at  home,  continued  their  accustomed  vocations,  were 
tractable,  and  gave  little  trouble. 

Much  the  greater  number  of  those  —  and  there  was  a  large 
number  of  them  —  who  accompanied  the  Confederate  armies 
and  served  in  various  menial  capacities,  were  very  faithful, 
the  majority  of  them  remaining  with  their  masters  until  the 
final  surrender.  These  negroes  seemed  to  be  as  thoroughly 
imbued  with  the  feeling  which  prevailed  in  the  Confederate 
ranks  as  were  the  soldiers  themselves,  and  spoke  with  as  much 
pride  of  Confederate  achievement. 

Impressionable  and  so  long  as  under  salutary  influences 
amiable,  the  negro  of  that  generation  readily  accepted  the  sen 
timent  of  those  —  especially  those  above  him  —  with  whom 
he  was  associated,  and  just  as  readily  reciprocated  kindness  and 
returned  gratitude  and  affection  for  considerate  treatment. 
He  was  essentially  conservative,  disposed  to  adhere  to  first 
opinions,  or  rather  impressions,  and  maintaining  in  some  measure, 
the  respect  he  had  been  taught  for  certain  things  and  certain 
families,  even  after  he  ceased  to  entertain  any  personal  regard 
for  them.  But  beyond  all  else  he  believed  that  absolute  obedi 
ence  was  due  to  power  —  to  might,  whether  with  or  without 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  241 

right  —  and  when  he  saw,  or  thought  he  saw,  the  sceptre  pass 
from  the  white  people  of  the  South,  nothing  seemed  to  him  more 
natural  or  proper  than  that  he  should  transfer  his  allegiance 
to  the  Freedman's  Bureau  and  the  Republican  party,  which, 
to  him,  then  represented  the  authority  he  so  revered. 

The  fierce  atmosphere  of  the  strife,  the  terrible  apprehension 
felt  by  the  white  people,  the  unwonted  privations  and  humilia 
tion  to  which  the  whites  were  subjected,  and  the  presence  of 
the  Federal  troops  seemed  finally  to  bewilder  and  demoralize 
the  negro,  and  when  the  proclamation  of  emancipation  was 
issued  they  were  like  creatures  deprived  of  reason.  But  the 
radical  change  in  their  feelings  and  conduct  was  more  completely 
wrought  by  their  enlistment  as  soldiers  in  the  Federal  army 
than  by  anything  else.  The  simple  fact  that  they  were  free, 
startling  and  attractive  as  it  was  to  their  imagination,  might 
have  been,  at  first,  too  abstract  for  their  exact  comprehension. 
But  when  they  were  clad  in  uniform,  had  guns  placed  in  their 
hands,  were  made  policemen  where  they  had  formerly  been 
servants,  and  invested  with,  at  least,  apparent  authority  — 
all  this  was  an  object  lesson  they  could  perfectly  understand, 
and  which  fired  their  blood.  As  a  war  measure  their  military 
enlistment  may  have  been  politic;  in  every  other  regard  it  was 
unwise  and  of  vast  injury.  Long  before  the  negro  had  acquired 
the  discipline  of  the  soldier  he  lost  that  which  he  had  been 
taught  as  a  slave. 

If,  previously,  he  had  been  ignorant  and  half  savage,  he  had 
at  any  rate,  been  a  "  gentle  savage."  Given  the  bayonet  and 
turned  loose  on  those  he  had  formerly  served,  it  would  have 
been  a  marvel  if  all  of  the  insolence,  ferocity,  and  evil  passion 
that  might  have  been  latent  in  his  nature  had  not  been  aroused. 
When  he  returned  from  military  service  to  pose  as  a  hero  among 
those  of  his  own  colour  he  became  a  henchman  of  the  white 
"scalawags"  and  "carpet-baggers,"  who  incited  the  agitation 
and  strife  of  the  reconstruction  period,  and,  abusing  the  confi 
dence  of  the  deluded  blacks,  robbed  the  whites,  and  well-nigh 
destroyed  the  already  devastated  South. 

The  Southern  people  were  unquestionably  the  best  friends 
the  negro  had  in  his  years  of  slavery,  and  of  all  those  concerned 
in  or  who  profited  by  his  servitude  they  had  the  least  to  do  with 


242  GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE 

its  imposition.  They  resented  his  violent  emancipation,  and 
the  untimely  conferring  of  a  suffrage  for  which  he  was  not  pre 
pared.  They  were  bitterly  indignant  when  he  was  armed  and 
employed  in  an  effort  made,  they  believed,  for  their  subjuga 
tion.  Since  he  has  become  a  freeman,  they  have  sometimes 
been  compelled,  in  the  defence  of  their  civilization  and  protec 
tion  of  their  homes,  to  deal  with  him  in  a  manner  which  may 
not  have  seemed  compatible  with  the  rights  of  freemen,  and 
in  doing  so  they  may  sometimes  have  erred.  But  I  am  con 
vinced  that  in  the  future,  as  in  the  past,  the  negro  will  find  his 
real  and  intelligent  friends  among  the  people  of  the  South. 

And  it  is  just  as  well  and  natural  that  this  should  be  so.  The 
Southern  people  know  his  better  qualities  as  well  as  his  weak 
nesses.  They  know  that  if  he  has  sinned,  others  have  sinned 
against  him;  and  very  often  the  wrong  has  been  committed 
in  the  guise  of  benevolence.  The  South  is  the  true  habitat 
of  the  negro  on  this  continent.  He  will  always  be  needed  there 
as  an  agricultural  labourer,  and  in  that  capacity  he  has  no  su 
perior.  He  will  never  find  a  congenial  home  in  the  North. 
Any  hope  he  may  entertain  of  "social  equality"  will  prove 
as  mythical  there  as  in  the  land  where  he  was  recently  a  slave, 
and  the  people  of  the  North  will  never  understand  him  as  thor 
oughly,  nor  be  as  lenient  to  his  faults,  as  the  people  among  whom 
he  and  his  fathers  were  reared.  The  Northern  white  labourer 
will  also  always  regard  him  jealously,  as  one  who  may  some  day 
become  a  competitor  more  or  less  formidable.  In  the  South, 
among  the  descendants  of  his  former  masters,  the  old  relations 
between  the  whites  and  blacks,  but  under  better  conditions  and 
all  compulsion  removed,  may  be  restored;  and  there,  I  hope 
and  believe,  he  will  receive  the  best  incentive  and  the  best  help 
to  attain  the  highest  plane  to  which  he  may  be  destined. 


CHAPTER  XII 

AMONG  the  innumerable  stories  told  about  the  war, 
and  of  war  times,  one  very  seldom  hears  a  ghost  story. 
The  old  soldiers  at  least  are  not  given  to  telling  them; 
and  wide  as  is  the  reminiscence  of  the  veteran,  various  as  are 
the  experiences  he  relates,  they  seldom,  if  ever,  deal  with  the 
supernatural.  It  would  seem  that  the  scenes  he  had  witnessed 
might  naturally  suggest  such  thoughts,  and  his  imagination  call 
up  apparitions  to  haunt  every  field  and  spot  where  men  had 
fallen  in  conflict.  The  belief  has  always  been  prevalent  among 
many  good  people  that  the  spirit,  reft  from  the  body  by  vio 
lence,  is  unable  to  find  rest  and  quiet  in  the  grave,  and  decidedly 
prefers  to  revisit  the  locality  where  it  suffered  the  last  earthly 
agony.  It  may  be,  however,  that  this  is  the  case  only  with  those 
who  have  been  the  victims  of  assassination,  and  that  the  soldier 
slain  in  fair  fight  doesn't  feel  that  he  has  been  murdered.  He 
doesn't,  therefore,  come  back  to  earth  by  way  of  protest  against 
the  unjust  manner  in  which  he  was  sent  out  of  it. 

Sailors  are  proverbially  superstitious,  and  are,  it  is  said,  firm 
believers,  as  a  rule,  in  spectral  appearances,  visitants  from 
another  world.  It  might  be  expected  that  soldiers,  leading 
an  equally  adventurous  and  hazardous  life,  should  be  quite  as 
prone  to  such  fancies.  But  such  was  not  the  case  with  the 
soldiers  of  our  Civil  War,  so  far  as  I  know  anything  of  the  matter, 
on  either  side. 

It  may  be  that  familiarity  with  the  spectacle  of  death  in  strife 
and  battle  induces  a  skepticism  regarding  any  subsequent 
appearance  or  return  of  the  dead  that  might  not  otherwise  be 
entertained;  and  that  those  who  have  seen  a  great  many  men 
killed,  learn,  unconsciously,  to  estimate  conditions  more  prac 
tically  and  rationally,  and  to  discard  any  idea  that  so  great  a 
host,  having  quitted  the  ranks  of  the  living,  is  at  all  likely  to 
parade  as  ghosts. 

The  superstition  of  the  soldier,  so  far  as  he  indulged  in  such 

243 


244  REMINISCENCES  OF 

speculations  at  all,  seemed  to  be  directed  not  to  apparitions 
and  spiritual  manifestations,  but  to  presentiments  and  signs 
of  good  luck  or  omens  of  disaster. 

Some  men  believed  in  their  "lucky  days,"  of  the  week  or 
month  —  days  on  which  they  might  attempt  any  enterprise 
with  good  hope  of  success,  or  brave  any  danger  with  impunity. 
Others  believed  in  the  fortunate  influence  of  some  article  of 
apparel  or  something  carried  about  the  person.  Of  course, 
this  faith  dwindled  as  the  war  wore  on,  until  the  man  who  had 
'placed  confidence  in  a  lucky  jacket,  thought  himself  in  "big 
luck"  if  he  could  get  any  sort  of  jacket.  Some  thought  it 
brought  better  luck  to  ride  a  horse  of  a  certain  colour  than  of 
some  other.  I  cannot  remember,  however,  that  such  men  ever 
hesitated  to  procure  a  horse  of  any  colour  whatever,  when  they 
were  in  need  of  a  mount. 

While  a  variety  of  suggestions  might  be  heard  during  the  war 
period,  as  in  peaceful  life,  of  what  things  were  ominous  of  good 
or  bad  fortune,  very  few,  so  far  as  I  can  recall,  were  distinctly 
formulated  or  given  much  credit.  I  can  remember  only  one 
such  omen  which  was,  so  to  speak,  "classified"  and  definitely 
named.  There  was  a  notion  prevalent  in  Morgan's  command, 
and,  perhaps,  in  some  others  of  the  Confederate  army  —  I 
never  heard  of  it  in  any  other,  however  —  that  upon  a  man's 
face  there  was  sometimes  impressed  unmistakable  indication 
that  he  was  about  to  die;  that  immediately  or  very  soon  before 
a  man  was  killed  in  battle,  or  met  with  violent  death  of  any 
kind,  a  premonition  of  his  impending  fate  could  be  read  in  his 
face,  discerned  in  a  peculiar  expression  which  was  called  the 
"death  look."  I  myself  know  of  three  or  four  instances  — 
in  fact,  witnessed  them  —  in  which  the  death  in  battle  of  cer 
tain  men  was  predicted  because  they  had  this  look,  and  they 
were  killed  very  soon  afterward. 

I  will  not  admit  that  I  became  a  convert  to  this  superstition, 
and  doubtless  the  facial  expression  and  the  death  speedily  fol 
lowing  were  merely  coincident.  Yet  I  should  not  like  to  see 
the  "  death  look"  again.  By  the  way,  it  was  in  no  sense  a  ghastly 
look  nor  one  of  fright.  It  was  not  caused  by  apprehension  of 
danger.  On  the  contrary,  the  men  who  bore  it  exposed  them 
selves  at  the  time  with  habitual  bravery,  and,  indeed,  recklessly. 


GENERAL  BASIL    W.  DUKE  245 

It  was  not  an  unpleasant  expression,  but  one  of  bewilderment 
rather,  as  if  the  man's  thoughts  were  intent  on  something  else 
than  that  which  was  taking  place  about  him. 

Presentiments,  of  course,  were  very  frequent;  so  common, 
indeed,  that  the  man  who  never  had  one  was  regarded  as  being 
utterly  destitute  of  imagination  and  almost  of  proper  sentiment. 
The  chief  vice  of  the  presentiment  was  that  it  rarely  material 
ized,  the  expected  accident  or  catastrophe  scarcely  ever 
occurred.  Yet  such  disappointment  seemed  in  nowise  to 
affect  the  man  with  whom  the  habit  of  presentiment 
had  become  chronic,  and  he  kept  on  predicting  disaster 
as  cheerfully  as  ever. 

I  am  inclined  to  think  that  the  presentiments  were  often 
the  result  of  some  suggestion,  the  effect  of  which,  however, 
was  not  fully  realized,  as  inducing  the  anticipation.  Some 
thing  might  happen  to  a  man  which  would  cause  him  to 
apprehend  serious  injury,  and  the  impression  might  remain 
after  the  incident  itself  had,  perhaps,  been  forgotten.  I  knew 
of  two  or  three  instances  in  which  men  had  presentiments  that 
they  would  receive  wounds  in  the  head  which  might  prove  fatal. 
In  every  such  case  the  man  had  narrowly  escaped  being  wounded 
in  that  very  way,  and  the  presentiment  was  undoubtedly  in 
duced,  I  think,  by  that  previous  experience. 

I  cannot  remember  any  presentiment  of  death  in  battle  having 
been  realized,  but  heard  of  one  case  in  which  very  unpleasant 
consequences  resulted.  A  man,  so  ran  the  story,  believing  that 
he  would  be  killed  at  a  certain  time,  distributed  his  personal 
effects  among  his  comrades.  The  date  passed  by  without  his 
having  been  killed,  and  his  donees  positively  refused  to  return 
the  gifts.  This  man  swore  roundly  that  he  would  never  again 
be  such  ad  —  d  fool  as  to  harbour  a  presentiment. 

Those  who  have  had  no  actual  experience  of  warfare  naturally 
consider  only  its  picturesque  or  terrible  features.  They  know, 
of  course,  that  there  must  be  minor  incidents,  humorous,  prosaic, 
or  pathetic;  but  it  is  the  big  events,  the  battles,  sieges,  and 
marches,  "the  pomp,  pride,  and  circumstance,"  and  the  carnage 
of  the  stricken  field  of  which  they  think  in  connection  with  the 
soldier's  life.  Yet  every  soldier  who  has  seen  much  service, 


246  REMINISCENCES  OF 

remembers  more  vividly  perhaps  than  aught  else  many  things 
which  in  the  telling  seem  very  trivial. 

In  the  early  summer  of  1863,  a  part  of  Morgan's  command 
encountered  Colonel  Jacob's  cavalry  regiment  and  some  other 
Federal  troops  at  a  point  on  Greasy  Creek,  about  twenty  miles 
from  Pulaski,  Ky.  Not  more  than  eight  or  nine  hundred 
men  on  each  side  were  engaged  and  the  fight  was  soon  over; 
but  it  was  quite  hot  while  it  lasted,  and  the  percentage  of  killed, 
both  Federal  and  Confederate,  was  large  for  a  skirmish.  The 
enemy  had  one  piece  of  artillery,  which  was  used  pretty  effec 
tively.  The  fight  opened  by  an  attack  on  our  line,  in  which 
the  combatants  came  to  close  quarters.  We  repulsed  our 
assailants,  and  charged  in  turn  across  a  wide  meadow  enclosed 
on  all  sides  by  woodlands.  During  this  advance  I  witnessed 
a  sight  which  shocked  me  greatly.  The  enemy  had  withdrawn 
the  piece  of  artillery  to  the  edge  of  the  farther  woods  and  was 
endeavouring  to  protect  his  retiring  line  with  its  fire.  When 
we  were  about  half-way  across  the  meadow  a  shell  exploded 
on  the  right  of  Capt.  James  E.  CantrilPs  company,  killing 
two  or  three  men  and  literally  tearing  one  poor  little  fellow 
into  shreds.  He  was  from  my  native  county,  and  was  not 
more  than  sixteen  years  of  age.  I  had  known  him  from 
his  infancy. 

Captain  Cantrill,  by  whose  side  the  boy  was  marching,  was 
drenched  with  his  blood.  The  spectacle  was  extremely  painful; 
the  more  so  because  I  had  known  the  lad  —  who  was  exceedingly 
bright  and  attractive  —  so  well.  The  Federals  were  driven 
into  the  woods  and  the  gun  was  pulled  off  to  a  considerable 
distance,  but  still  continued  its  fire.  A  small  cabin  stood  about 
fifty  yards  from  the  edge  of  the  woods  through  which  the  Yankees 
had  retreated,  and  just  as  our  line  approached  it  a  loud  crash 
notified  us  that  it  had  been  stricken  by  a  cannon-shot.  Anxious 
to  ascertain  if  it  was  tenanted,  and,  if  so,  whether  the  inmates 
had  been  injured,  I  entered  the  cabin.  I  can  never  forget 
the  scene  which  met  my  eyes.  It  impressed  me  the  more  be 
cause  I  had  not  recovered  from  the  shock  which  poor  little 
Billy  Graves's  death  had  just  given  me.  In  front  of  and  close 
to  the  empty  fireplace  a  woman  was  seated  as  still  as  a  statue, 
with  her  face  buried  in  her  lap.  Three  little  children  were 


GENERAL  BASIL    W.  DUKE  247 

around  her  clinging  to  her  dress.  An  unexploded  shell  lay  upon 
the  hearth,  almost  touching  her  feet,  and  a  gap  in  the  stone 
chimney  showed  where  it  had  entered.  Mother  and  little  ones 
were  paralyzed  with  fright.  I  spoke  to  the  woman  and  finally 
induced  her  to  lift  her  head  and  look  at  me,  but  she  would  not 
speak  a  word.  I  never  saw  in  human  eyes  such  an  expression 
of  fear  and  horror. 

In  November,  1864,  Gen.  John  C.  Breckinridge,  then  in 
command  of  the  department  of  South-western  Virginia,  moved 
into  east  Tennessee,  and,  attacking  the  Federal  general,  Gillem, 
at  Bull's  Gap,  after  sharp  fighting  drove  him  from  that  position, 
almost  completely  routed  his  command,  and  pressed  him  as 
for  back  as  Strawberry  Plains,  not  far  distant  from  Knoxville. 
With  the  river  between  him  and  his  pursuers,  and  having 
received  reinforcements  from  Knoxville,  Gillem  succeeded  in 
checking  the  Confederate  advance.  For  several  days  the 
contending  forces  faced  each  other  along  the  river  banks, 
unable  to  come  to  close  grapple,  but  constantly  firing  on 
each  other  with  musketry  and  artillery.  I  was  summoned  on 
one  occasion  during  this  period,  to  General  Breckinridge's 
quarters  for  some  purpose,  and,  during  my  conference  with  the 
general,  a  woman  brought  a  little  child,  some  three  years  of 
age,  into  the  room  in  search  of  surgical  assistance.  The 
child  had  been  wounded  by  a  shot  from  a  Spencer  rifle. 
Fortunately  it  had  been  at  very  long  range,  and,  although  the 
bullet  was  partially  imbedded  in  the  little  one's  leg,  the  bone 
was  not  badly  shattered.  The  medical  director  immediately 
took  charge  of  the  case,  and  the  general  and  I  proffered  such 
assistance  as  we  could  render. 

The  surgeon  went  to  work  with  professional  nonchalance, 
although  in  a  very  kindly  manner,  but  General  Breckinridge 
and  I  could  not  so  well  maintain  our  composure.  The  child 
had  been  very  quiet  until  the  surgeon  began  his  work,  but 
when  he  applied  his  forceps  to  extract  the  ball,  the  poor  little 
thing  struggled  and  wailed  piteously.  I  had  seen  some  dead 
and  several  wounded  men  that  morning  and  while  the  sight  was, 
of  course,  not  a  pleasant  one,  it  had  not  much  affected  me.  A 
soldier  becomes  accustomed  to  seeing  men  disposed  of  in  that 


248  REMINISCENCES  OF 

way.  But  that  child's  demonstration  of  suffering  completely 
unnerved  me.  I  became  sick  at  the  stomach  and  hurriedly 
left  the  room  and  the  house.  In  a  moment  I  heard  some  one 
else  rush  out  of  the  house,  and  turning  around  discovered  that 
it  was  General  Breckinridge.  He  was  affected  just  as  I  had 
been,  and  like  me  was  seeking  relief  in  flight  and  fresh  air. 
Notwithstanding  our  sympathy  for  the  baby  we  could  not, 
as  we  looked  at  each  other,  refrain  from  laughter. 

In  August,  1862,  Morgan's  command,  then  consisting  of  the 
Second  Kentucky  Cavalry  and  Gano's  squadron  of  two  com 
panies,  was  campaigning  in  Sumner  County,  Tenn.,  making 
its  headquarters  alternately  at  Gallatin  and  Hartsville.  It 
was  an  exciting  period  in  the  history  of  the  command.  *  Its 
close  proximity  to  Nashville,  which  was  occupied  by  a  large 
Federal  force,  and  to  the  Louisville  &  Nashville  railroad,  on 
which  stockades,  well  garrisoned,  were  erected  for  the  protec 
tion  of  the  necessary  communication  with  Louisville,  compelled 
the  most  alert  vigilance  and  constant  activity  on  Morgan's 
part,  not  only  to  harass  and  cripple  the  enemy,  but  to  protect 
himself  from  frequent  attempts  at  reprisal.  In  all  his  adven 
turous  career  he  did  no  more  incessant  and  successful  service 
than  during  the  three  weeks  that  he  was  thus  employed.  His 
detachments  and  scouting  parties  were  in  conflict  every  day  with 
the  Federal  expeditions  sent  out  from  Nashville.  Not  a  night 
passed  without  some  skirmish  fought  by  the  light  of  the  moon 
or  stars.  The  quiet  farmer-folk  who  lived  near  any  one  of  the 
broad  white  pikes  or  narrow  country  roads,  fringed  with  forest 
or  meado'w,  in  which  the  combatants  would  meet,  became 
accustomed  to  such  encounters.  The  quick,  ringing  shots  would 
awaken  them  to  listen  to  the  sudden  clamour  of  the  fight,  fol 
lowed  by  the  wild  hurrah  and  thunder  of  the  chase;  and  then 
with  the  comment,  "It's  only  our  boys  having  some  fun  with 
the  Yankees,"  they  would  fall  asleep  again.  About  the  close 
of  this  period,  after  the  country  had  been  stripped  clear  of  the 
outlying  posts  to  the  suburbs  of  Nashville,  Boone's  regiment 
had  been  captured,  and  General  Johnson's  brigade  of  picked 
Federal  cavalry  had  been  defeated  and  completely  broken  up, 
and  just  before  we  marched  into  Kentucky  to  assist  in  General 


GENERAL  BASIL   W.  DUKE  249 

Bragg's  grand  raid,  there  occurred  two  incidents,  both  very 
painful  and  one  extremely  tragic,  which  I  shall  never  forget. 

Two  deserters  from  Confederate  regiments  had  fallen  into 
our  hands.  One  of  them  had  been  captured  in  arms  and  fighting 
in  the  Federal  ranks.  He  was  tried  by  court-martial  and  sen 
tenced  to  the  punishment  prescribed  for  such  offence  by  the 
regulations  and  the  laws  of  war;  viz.,  to  be  shot  to  death.  He 
was  sent  to  me  with  orders  that  I  should  have  the  sentence  exe 
cuted,  and  I.  had  twelve  men  detailed  for  that  purpose.  Of 
course,  such  a  thing  was  extremely  repugnant  to  the  men  of 
my  regiment.  They  were  willing  to  shed  blood  in  battle,  but, 
strongly  as  they  abhorred  desertion,  they  shrank  from  shooting 
a  man  in  that  cold-blooded  way.  The  culprit  was  a  very  young 
man,  not  more  than  twenty  years  of  age.  He  had  been  born 
and  reared  in  the  immediate  vicinity  of  Gallatin.  His  neigh 
bours  believed  that  he  had  been  induced  to  desert  by  his  father, 
who  was  a  bitter  Union  man.  At  any  rate,  grave  as  his  fault 
was,  we  all  felt  sympathy  for  him,  and  I  was  greatly  impressed 
by  his  demeanour.  vHe  was  perfectly  calm,  showed  no  fear, 
and  when  I  asked  him  if  he  had  any  wish  that  I  could  gratify 
before  he  was  shot,  if  he  desired  to  send  any  message  to  his 
family  or  see  any  of  them,  he  answered  that  he  had  already 
bidden  his  mother  good-bye  and  that  he  desired  only  to  have 
some  minister  pray  with  him  before  he  died.  I  sent  instantly 
for  the  chaplain  of  the  regiment,  but  could  not  find  him.  He 
said  subsequently  that  he  had  absented  himself  purposely  in 
order  to  avoid  "a  scene  so  painful."  I  responded  that  the 
"scene  "  was  quite  as  painful  to  the  rest  of  us  as  to  him,  and  that 
he,  more  than  any  one  else,  should  have  been  present  on  such 
an  occasion,  inasmuch  as  one  of  his  holy  calling  might  have 
given  the  poor  wretch  some  comfort.  The  altercation  resulted 
in  my  summary  dismissal  of  the  chaplain  from  office,  for  which 
I  got  into  some  trouble  afterward  myself. 

However,  after  waiting  two  or  three  hours,  which  must  have 
seemed  ages  of  suspense  and  agony  to  the  doomed  man,  I  sum 
moned  old  "Parson  Ash"  to  my  aid.  Parson  Ash  was  a  Pres 
byterian  minister,  and  one  of  his  sons  was  a  lieutenant,  in  com 
pany  "B,"  of  the  Second  Kentucky  Cavalry.  On  this  account 
the  old  gentleman,  although  far  beyond  the  military  age  and 


250  REMINISCENCES  OF 

not  an  enlisted  man,  always  stayed  closely  with  the  regiment, 
went  into  every  fight,  and,  notwithstanding  all  remonstrance 
to  the  contrary,  insisted  on  strictly  performing  every  duty  and 
labour  which  fell  to  the  lot  of  the  private  soldier.  He  was  a 
very  kindly  and  thoroughly  earnest  and  courageous  man,  ex 
ceedingly  intelligent  and  well  informed,  doubtless  an  excellent 
theologian,  and  certainly  one  of  the  coolest  and  best  shots  with 
a  rifle  I  ever  saw. 

The  parson  came  instantly  after  getting  my  message  and 
when  I  explained  to  him  the  wish  of  the  condemned  man  to 
receive  the  consolations  of  religion,  expressed  his  earnest 
sympathy,  and  said  he  would  remain  with  him  to  the  last  moment. 
No  repugnance  to  a  "painful  scene"  could  prevent  the  old  hero 
from  peforming  what  he  deemed  a  sacred  duty.  Parson  Ash 
talked  and  prayed  with  the  poor  fellow  in  a  way  that  impressed 
and  affected  all  who  heard  him.  I  was  not  inclined  to  limit 
the  time  to  be  thus  occupied,  but  in  about  fifteen  minutes  the 
condemned  man  declared  his  readiness  to  die.  He  thanked  the 
parson  for  his  ministration,  saying  that  it  had  given  him  great 
comfort.  He  preferred  only  one  other  request,  which  was  that 
his  eyes  should  not  be  bandaged.  The  twelve  men  of  the  firing 
detail  were  drawn  up  in  front  of  him,  six  with  loaded,  six  with 
unloaded,  rifles.  Lieut.  Samuel  D.  Morgan,  a  cousin  of  the 
general  and  a  very  fine  young  officer,  was  in  command  of  the 
squad.  Just  before  giving  the  order  to  fire  he  shook  hands  with 
the  prisoner,  and  said  to  him: 

"Die  like  a  Tennesseean!" 

"  I  will ! "  was  the  resolute  response.  Notwithstanding  the  ab 
solute  sincerity  of  both  the  exhortation  and  the  answer,  under  any 
other  circumstances  I  should  have  been  amused,  but  then  this 
short  colloquy  added  to  the  solemnity  and  pathos  of  the  event. 

Lieutenant  Morgan  gave  the  commands: 

"Ready!  Aim!"  the  rifles  dropped  to  a  level,  and  the  pris 
oner  looked  unflinchingly  into  their  muzzles.  "Fire!"  rang  out 
the  last  order,  and  simultaneously  came  the  crash  and  flame 
of  the  volley.  Without  a  groan  or  the  quiver  of  a  muscle,  the 
victim  sank  stone  dead  upon  the  ground. 

On  the  day  after  the  shooting  of  the  unfortunate  man,  whose 
death  has  been  described,  the  other  fellow  who  had  been 


GENERAL  BASIL   W.  DUKE  251 

sentenced  to  be  flogged,  was  sent  to  me  with  the  exceedingly  disa 
greeable  notification  that  I  should  have  the  punishment  inflicted. 
This  one  had  not  deserted  to  the  enemy,  and  consequently 
had  not  been  taken  in  arms.  Indeed,  he  was  too  cowardly 
to  fight  on  either  side.  But  he  was  infinitely  the  meaner  of 
the  two.  Almost  the  entire  able-bodied  male  population  of 
Sumner  County  was  then  serving  in  the  Confederate  army. 
Only  the  women  and  children  remained  at  home;  and  this 
scoundrel  had  been  prowling  about  the  unprotected  farm. houses, 
committing  numerous  depredations  and  terrorizing  the  inmates. 
His  sentence  to  receive  thirty-nine  lashes  on  his  bare  back  was 
richly  deserved;  no  one  felt  for  the  wretch  anything  but  con 
tempt  and  disgust.  Yet  willing  as  all  were  that  he  should  re 
ceive  punishment,  there  was  something  revolting  in  its  character. 
On  the  afternoon  of  the  day  preceding  that  on  which  the  sentence 
was  to  be  executed,  a  deputation  of  ten  men,  one  from  each  com 
pany  of  the  regiment,  came  to  my  headquarters  and  requested  a 
conference  with  me.  The  one  selected  as  spokesman  asked  if  the 
report  which  had  reached  them,  viz.,  that  a  man  had  been  sent  me 
to  be  flogged,  was  true.  I  answered,  of  course,  in  the  affirmative. 

"Well,  colonel,"  was  the  response,  "we  are  instructed  by -our 
comrades  to  say  that  no  man  in  the  regiment  will  consent  to 
do  such  work.  We  feel  no  sympathy  for  the  scoundrel.  We 
think  he  ought  to  be  hanged.  We  hated  to  shoot  that  man 
yesterday, '  but  we  would  cheerfully  shoot  this  fellow.  Never 
theless  none  of  us  is  willing  to  flog  him,  because  we  think  such 
an  act  would  be  degrading  to  ourselves.  It  isn't  on  his  account 
that  we  refuse,  but  on  our  own.  We  never  expected  to  disobey 
any  order  you  might  give  us,  and  we  very  reluctantly  tell  you 
that  we  will  disobey  this  one  if  given.  If  you  see  fit  to  punish 
any  of  us  for  refusing,  well  and  good;  we'll  make  no  complaint. 
But  none  of  us  will  flog  that  hound,  mean  as  he  is." 

I  was  somewhat  disconcerted  by  this  speech,  but  in  my  heart 
I  was  proud  of  the  spirit  the  men  exhibited,  and  thoroughly 
understood  their  feeling.  I  personally  knew  nearly  every  man 
in  the  regiment.  They  were  of  the  pick  and  flower  of  Kentucky's 
best  population.  Many  of  them  had  been  my  schoolmates  and 
ante-bellum  friends  and  companions. 

"Very  well,  gentlemen,"  I  said,  "I  appreciate  your  frankness, 


252  REMINISCENCES  OF 

whatever  I  may  think  of  the  determination  you  have  expressed. 
As  for  punishing  any  one  for  disobedience,  I  have  only  to  say 
that  no  order  has  yet  been  disobeyed.  Go  back  and, tell  your 
comrades  that  I  have  received  their  message." 

I  knew  that  the  men  were  in  dead  earnest  and  would  never 
recede  from  the  position  they  had  taken.  I  was  in  a  quandary. 
The  prisoner  had  been  sent  to  me  with  positive  instructions 
that  the  sentence  of  the  court-martial  should  be  executed. 
But  how  was  that  to  be  done  if  no  one  would  consent  to  be 
executioner? 

While  I  was  pondering  this  problem  very  seriously  without 
being  able  to  discover  any  solution,  it  was  solved  for  me  in  a 
curious  fashion.  Shortly  after  the  deputation  had  departed, 
an  officer  came  with  a  proposition  which  amazed  and  disgusted 
me,  but  which  in  the  end  I  accepted  as  the  best  that  I  could 
do.  This  man  had  been  Delected,  a  few  days  before,  second- 
lieutenant  of  Capt.  Joseph  Desha's  company,  who  was  at  that 
time  serving  in  the  Second  Kentucky  Cavalry.  He  was  of  dis 
solute,  disreputable  character,  and  his  election  had  been  a  matter 
or  regret  not  only  to  Captain  Desha,  but  to  every  one  in  the 
regiment  save  the  men  who  voted  for  him,  and  they  eventually 
regretted  it  more  than  all  else.  He  said  that  he  had  learned  of 
the  resolution  taken  by  the  men  and  announced  to  me,  and  that 
in  order  to  help  me  "out  of  a  difficulty,"  as  he  expressed  it, 
he  would  himself  flog  the  prisoner  if  I  was  willing  that  he  should 
do  so.  I  could  not  conceal  the  surprise,  and  could  scarcely 
restrain  the  indignation  this  suggestion  excited. 

"Do  you  not  understand,  lieutenant,"  I  said  "that  the  private 
soldiers  have  expressed  a  disinclination  to  perform  such  service 
because  they  regard  it  as  degrading  and  will  you,  an  officer 
whom  I  cannot  order  to  do  such  a  thing,  volunteer  for  duty  so 
abhorrent?"  He  did  not  seem  in  the  least  abashed;  he  did  not, 
I  think,  realize  the  sentiment  that  others  entertained  about  the 
matter,  and  repeated  his  remark  that  he  wished  to  help  me 
"out  of  a  difficulty."  I  assured  him  that  I  did  not  wish  his 
aid;  that  no  matter  what  might  be  the  difficulty  from  which 
such  action  on  his  part  might  extricate  me,  I  would  not  thank 
him  or  consider  myself  under  obligations  to  him.  Evidently 
failing  to  understand  how  I  regarded  his  offer,  and  believing 


GENERAL  BASIL    W.  DUKE  253 

that  he  would  earn  my  approval  and  gratitude  he  insisted, 
and  I  finally  consented. 

Sure  enough,  on  the  next  day,  when  the  appointed  hour 
arrived,  he  was  on  hand,  swaggering  and  flourishing  a  long, 
thick,  leather  strap,  with  which  he  proposed  to  inflict  the  pun 
ishment.  The  prisoner  was  bound  by  the  wrists  to  a  stake  in 
front  of  the  regiment,  which  was  drawn  upon  parade,  and  stripped 
to  the  waist.  The  volunteer  executioner  plied  his  blows  with 
vigour  and  apparent  relish  of  the  pain  his  victim  was  suffering. 
In  a  few  seconds  the  back  of  the  wretch  was  covered  with  bloody 
weals  and  bruises;  he  screamed  and  circled  around  the  stake 
in  his  agony,  but  his  tormentor  continued  to  wield  the  lash  with 
unrelenting  energy.  When  the  full  tale  of  thirty-nine  stripes  had 
been  given  the  executioner  raised  his  arm  with  the  evident  inten 
tion  of  delivering  another  blow.  A  yell  of  execration  arose  from  the 
men  in  the  ranks,  and  Captain  Desha,  who  was  officer  of  the  day, 
rode  forward  and  threatened  to  shoot  him  if  he  struck  again. 

I  sent  for  him  that  afternoon,  and  he  came,  still  under  the 
impression,  I  believe,  that  I  would  in  some  way  reward  him  for 
the  service  he  had  rendered.  When,  however,  I  curtly  informed 
him  that  I  would  permit  him  no  longer  to  serve  as  an  officer 
of  the  regiment,  or  even  to  remain  with  it,  he  was  like  a  man 
thunderstruck. 

After  awhile  he  rallied,  and  declared  that  I  had  no  right  to 
dismiss  him  in  that  summary  way.  I  admitted  that  his  claim 
was  in  one  sense  true,  but  said  that  I  had  the  right  to  protect 
the  men  under  my  command  from  the  humiliation  of  serving 
under  a  man  like  him,  and  meant  to  do  it. 

"I  believe,"  I  said,  "that  if  I  preferred  charges  against  you 
for  conduct  unbecoming  an  officer  and  a  gentleman,  a  court- 
martial  would  convict  you,  and  you  would  be  regularly  dismissed 
from  the  service.  As  it  is,  I  simply  tell  you  that  you  cannot  serve 
as  an  officer  of  this  regiment.  You  can  go  where  you  please." 

Convinced  that  he  could  not  placate  me,  and  aware  that  he 
would  get  no  sympathy,  but  perhaps  very  rough  treatment 
from  the  men,  he  concluded  to  accept  the  situation.  He  left 
that  night,  and  I  never  saw  or  heard  of  him  again. 

Much  controversy  has  prevailed  between  the  soldiers  who 
served  the  Confederacy,  whether  in  the  infantry  or  cavalry, 


254  REMINISCENCES  OF 

regarding  the  merits  of  their  respective  arms  —  a  controversy 
which,  of  course,  never  was  and  never  will  be  determined  by 
the  disputants  themselves.  Nor  will  they  ever  be  able  to  agree 
in  another  matter  which  has  been  one  of  debate  between  them: 
that  is,  as  to  which  branch  of  the  service  entailed  the  more  ar 
duous  work  and  the  greater  amount  of  hardship.  Each  was, 
at  times,  abundantly  trying,  and  tested  endurance  to  its  utmost 
limit;  but  the  cavalry  was  decidedly  better  off  in  this  respect, 
because  shifting  their  encampments  more  frequently  and  trav 
ersing  a  much  wider  extent  of  territory,  they  were  often  enabled 
to  procure  food  very  superior  to  the  ordinary  ration,  and  en 
joyed,  too,  in  frequent  and  rapid  movement,  a  comparative  free 
dom  from  the  routine  and  restriction  of  the  usual  camp  life,  which 
was  highly  agreeable.  Gen.  "  Jeb"  Stuart  had  this  in  mind,  doubt 
less,  when  he  hummed,  as  he  so  often  did,  his  favourite  song: 

"If  you  want  to  have  fun  jest  jine  the  cavalry." 

The  cavalry  commands  which  were  accustomed  to  make  raid 
ing  expeditions,  long  incursions  into  regions  not  so  constantly 
occupied  by  the  large  armies,  and,  therefore,  less  denuded  of 
supplies,  were  especially  favoured  in  this  wise,  and  until  the  last 
year  of  the  war  might  be  said  to  have  occasionally  "lived  upon 
the  fat  of  the  land."  No  memories  of  my  life,  indeed,  are  pleas- 
anter  than  those  of  the  service  I  saw  in  middle  Tennessee  and 
central  Kentucky  during  the  spring,  summer,  and  autumn  of 
1862  when  the  abundant  capacity  of  those  fertile  and  lovely 
countries  and  the  lavish  hospitality  of  their  people  were  very 
thoroughly  tested  and  appreciated. 

I  am  not  sure,  although  it  is  saying  a  great  deal  when  the 
almost  insatiable  appetite  of  a  soldier  is  remembered,  that  the 
beauty  of  the  landscapes  amid  which  we  made  our  bivouacs  did 
not  contribute  as  much  to  the  enjoyment  of  such  campaigning 
as  the  good  cheer  we  found  there,  but  we  were  duly  grateful  for 
all,  receiving  the  aesthetic  and  material  benefactions  in  the 
kindest  spirit  and  with  equal  satisfaction.  At  any  rate,  these 
surroundings  caused  the  most  irksome  duty  to  appear  easy 
and  cease  to  seem  monotonous,  and  invested  the  most  trivial 
circumstances  with  something  of  romantic  interest. 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  255 

On  one  occasion  this  was  impressed  upon  me  after  a  fashion 
which  left  a  -  very  vivid  picture  in  my  memory.  Morgan's 
command,  then  less  than  one  thousand  strong,  was  taking  a 
much-needed  rest,  and  for  that  purpose  was  occupying  a  locality 
which  not  only  provided  every  thing  essential  to  the  comfort 
of  an  encampment  intended  to  be  of  several  days'  duration,  but 
which  exceeded  in  rustic  beauty  almost  any  spot  I  can  remember. 

It  was  in  that  Bluegrass  region  of  Tennessee  lying  along  the 
Cumberland,  to  which  nature  has  been  so  generous,  in  an  ex 
tensive  woodland  out  of  which  the  underbrush  had  all  been 
cleared,  and  where  the  grass  was  thick  and  green  —  a  perfect 
mat  of  verdure.  The  lofty  and  noble  trees  stood  at  wide  in 
tervals  and  seemed  at  once  monuments  to  the  fertility  of  the 
soil  and  guardians  against  wanton  intrusion.  A  broad  stream 
of  cool,  clear  water,  gushing  from  a  large  spring  not  far  distant, 
wound  through  it,  making  the  air  more  delicious  in  fancy,  if 
not  in  reality,  and  every  "balmy  breeze"  that  was  in  business 
came  and  loved  to  linger  there.  It  was  a  place  which  should 
have  been  dedicated  to  quiet  and  peace,  and  to  men  more  in 
clined  to  poetic  sentiment  it  might  have  seemed  almost  prof 
anation  to  use  it  as  an  encampment. 

We  were  there,  as  I  have  said,  for  rest,  but  it  was  hardly  pos 
sible  at  that  time  to  obtain  uninterrupted  rest,  and  more  than 
once  we  had  calls  for  assistance  which  could  not  be  refused  from 
our  friends  in  communities  which  anticipated  visits  from  the 
enemy.  The  people  in  all  this  region  were  intensely  Southern 
in  sentiment.  Nearly  all  of  the  men  capable  of  bearing  arms 
were  in  the  Confederate  ranks,  only  the  old  men,  women,  and 
children  remaining  at  home.  These  not  only  warmly  sympa 
thized  with,  but  were  always  ready  and  anxious  to  furnish  aid 
and  comfort  to  the  Confederate  cause,  and  the  boys,  too  young 
to  serve  as  soldiers,  but  old  enough  to  make  active  and  useful 
agents  for  other  purposes,  were  often  employed  as  messengers 
to  communicate  with  any  rebel  force  which  might  be  in  the  vici 
nage.  A  number  of  Federal  garrisons  were  established  at 
points  best  adapted  to  the  military  occupation  and  control  of 
that  county,  and  some  strong  Federal  commands  were  con 
stantly  in  long  marching  distance  of  our  encampment. 

Two  or  three  of  the  requests  for  protection,  of  which  I  have 


256  REMINISCENCES  OF 

spoken,  necessitated  only  the  sending  of  scouting  parties  or 
small  detachments  to  the  help  of  the  supplicants,  but  at  the 
expiration  of  eight  or  ten  days  an  alarm  came  which  de 
manded  the  prompt  employment  of  our  entire  command  and 
putting  an  end  to  recreation,  summoned  us  again  into  hot  and 
frequent  service. 

I  was  lying  awake  at  a  late  hour  one  glorious  August  night, 
long  after  every  one  in  the  camp,  not  on  duty,  ought  to  have 
been  asleep.  The  full  moon  was  pouring  down  a  brilliant  flood 
of  light;  the  glades  of  the  wood  were  shining  and  the  little 
stream  gleaming  with  its  rays,  and  they  trickled  through  the 
foliage  of  the  great  tree  under  which  I  was  stretched,  in  green 
and  golden  radiance.  The  air  was  fresh  and  elastic,  although  no 
breeze  was  stirring,  and  dim,  misty  shapes  seemed  to  be  gliding 
about  in  the  shadows.  While  gazing  on  this  scene  a  faint  sound 
afar  off  fell  softly  upon  my  ear.  I  listened  intently  and  it 
grew  in  volume,  until  I  recognized  unmistakably  the  quick 
hoof  beats  of  a  fleet  horse  pressed  to  a  rapid  gallop.  Whoever 
it  was  was  evidently  approaching  on  the  turnpike  which  ran 
past  and  not  far  from  the  encampment,  and  through  the  little 
hamlet  nearby.  Suddenly  the  sound  ceased,  and  I  knew  that 
the  rider  had  been  halted  by  the  pickets.  Then  it  began  again, 
fast  and  furious,  and  as  continuous  as  the  long  roll  of  a 
drum.  The  iron  shod  hoofs  clanged  fiercely  on  the  stony  pike 
as  the  rider  drew  nearer,  the  cadence  changing  all  at  once  to  a 
duller  rumble  when  he  left  the  highway  and  turned  into  the 
trace  which  led  directly  to  the  camp.  By  this  time  nearly 
all  the  men  were  aroused  and  on  their  feet,  awaiting  in  eager 
expectancy  the  news.  With  splintering  crash  and  bang,  the 
horse  bounded  in  full  stride  upon  the  short  bridge  which  spanned 
the  brook  and  the  next  moment  was  in  our  midst. 

A  boy  about  twelve  years  of  age  was  hanging  on  his  back, 
exhausted  and  gasping,  and  scarce  able  to  keep  the  saddle.  So 
soon  as  he  could  speak  he  told  us  that  a  large  Federal  force  had 
marched  into  the  town,  whence  he  had  come,  just  at  nightfall, 
making  wholesale  arrests,  threatening  dire  punishment  to  those 
who  were  suspected  of  having  most  actively  abetted  the  neigh 
bouring  rebel  soldiery,  and  behaving  altogether  in  a  most  offen 
sive  and  "ridiculous"  fashion.  He  had  been  smuggled  out  of 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  257 

town,  mounted  on  the  best  horse  that  could  be  procured  and  de 
spatched  "hot-foot"  to  notify  Morgan  of  the  situation  and  beg 
him  to  come  to  the  rescue. 

He  was  taken  at  once  to  headquarters  to  repeat  his  message 
there.  In  five  minutes  the  bugle  rang  out  like  the  shrill  chal 
lenge  of  a  game-cock.  Almost  as  soon  the  men  were  in  the 
saddle,  the  column  was  formed  and  was  in  motion,  and  we  were 
marching  swiftly  in  response  to  the  summons  our  friends  had 
so  hastily  sent  us. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

MUCH  has  been  said  of  Southern  hospitality  and  it  has 
at  all  times  been  justly  famous,  but  I  believe  that  no 
one  who  did  not  witness  its  exercise  during  the  war, 
and  when  the  South  was  subjected  to  all  the  hardships  of  hostile 
invasion,  can  form  any  accurate  conception  of  how  cordial 
and  limitless  it  really  was.  Only  personal  experience  and 
knowledge  can  enable  one  to  understand  the  extent  to  which 
it  was  cheerfully  rendered  during  that  terrible  trial. 

I  can  now  scarcely  trust  the  fidelity  of  my  memory  when  I 
recall  the  countless  occasions  on  which  I  have  seen  it  generously 
bestowed  under  circumstances  which,  it  might  be  thought, 
would  have  made  it  absolutely  impossible.  And  it  was  given 
without  respect  of  persons,  at  least  with  very  slight  regard 
as  to  who  might  be  the  recipient.  Not  only  was  it  never  denied 
the  stranger  —  that  is  to  say,  for  the  sole  reason  that  he  might 
be  an  utter  stranger,  or  for  any  other  cause  than  that  which 
might  compel  its  reluctant  denial  to  the  closest  friend  —  but 
the  fact  that  the  applicant  was  a  stranger  seemed  sometimes 
to  be  considered  the  strongest  claim  that  could  be  preferred. 
It  may  be  said  that  the  practice  of  this  particular  virtue  in  an 
unusual  degree  might  have  been  expected  among  a  people  of 
the  character  and  living  the  life  of  the  Southern  people  in  the 
ante-bellum  period,  and  it  was  not  at  all  remarkable  that  the 
habit  should  have  continued  until  the  havoc  and  waste  of  war 
virtually  destroyed  the  means  of  its  indulgence. 

The  environment  of  the  Southerner  was  unquestionably 
adapted  to  the  cultivation  of  a  liberal  spirit  in  that  direction. 
The  country,  in  nearly  every  region  of  the  South,  was  rich  and 
productive,  the  soil  yielding  abundant  crops  without  arduous 
tillage.  It  was  comparatively  sparsely  settled,  and  the  inhabi 
tants  of  the  towns  lived  very  much  as  did  those  of  the  farms 
and  were  distinguished  by  very  much  the  same  characteristics. 
Hospitality  has  always  been  a  trait  more  peculiar  to  rural  than 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  259 

to  urban  communities,  and  has  been  more  prevalent  among 
scanty  than  dense  populations.  When  a  hearty,  kindly,  well- 
to-do  man  has  plenty  of  room,  he  is  ever  inclined  to  have  other 
people  share  it  with  him.  The  planter  or  farmer  lacked  in  those 
old  Southern  days  even  more  than  he  does  now,  facilities  and 
opportunities  for  companionship  and  social  enjoyment  which 
the  city  man  can  find  elsewhere  than  in  his  own  domicile,  and  a 
guest  was,  for  that  reason,  perhaps,  more  welcome. 

The  institution  of  slavery  —  whatever  else  may  be  said  about 
it  —  was  also  a  great  aid  to  those  who  were  by  nature  hospitably 
inclined.  Nearly  every  householder  in  the  South  was  a  slave 
holder,  and  the  darkeys  were  not  only  better  trained  than  they 
are  now,  but  better  cared  for,  inasmuch,  as  the  average  master 
took  much  better  care  of  his  slave  than  the  average  negro  now 
takes  care  of  himself:  so  that  guests  could  be  entertained  with 
more  convenience  to  the  host,  and  more  comfortably  for  them 
selves,  than  after  the  slave  had  become  a  voter  and  learned  to 
visit  the  polls  in  "pursuit  of  happiness." 

Therefore  the  liberal  entertainment  offered  the  soldiers,  who 
were  not  at  all  diffident  in  asking  it,  and  the  warm  reception 
accorded  the  unfortunate  "sympathizer"  who  had  fled  from 
his  home,  where  it  was  not  safe  freely  to  express  rebellious 
opinions,  to  some  more  Southern  and  congenial  clime,  was  not 
to  be  deemed  extraordinary  in  the  earlier  period  of  the  war. 
This,  indeed,  was  only  an  extension,  a  rather  more  general 
observance  of  the  rule  which  had  always  obtained,  induced  by 
the  prevailing  conditions  and  the  additional  incentive  of  patriotic 
sentiment. 

But  it  was  a  matter  of  surprise  that  it  endured  so  long;  that 
this  hospitality  should  have  been  still  so  generously  furnished, 
even  after  every  part  of  the  South  had  been  more  or  less  dev 
astated;  when  the  necessaries  of  life  had  been  in  great  measure 
taken  or  destroyed;  when  the  food  supply  was  nearly  exhausted; 
and  production  had  almost  entirely  ceased  in  many  localities, 
because  of  the  lack  of  men  and  facilities  for  adequate  cultivation. 

Nevertheless,  although  the  host  of  "refugees"  was  constantly 
augmented  in  number,  and  the  means  of  providing  for  them  as 
steadily  diminished,  the  disposition  to  welcome  and  share  every 
thing  with  them  seemed  in  no  wise  abated.  In  the  first  months 


260  REMINISCENCES  OF 

of  the  war  they  came  from  Missouri,  Maryland,  and  Kentucky, 
Tennessee  and  northern  Alabama,  when  those  regions  were 
later  occupied  by  the  enemy,  then  furnished  their  contingents; 
and  the  sorrowful  procession  was  increased  by  fresh  arrivals,, 
as  those  unhappy  populations  felt  more  heavily  the  hand  of 
oppression,  until  the  whole  South  was  filled  with  fugitives  seek 
ing  an  asylum. 

All  this  was,  of  course,  a  very  great  burden  on  the  people  of 
the  states  not  yet  in  Federal  possession,  but  they  bore  it  cheer 
fully.  The  care  of  these  unbidden  guests,  regarded  at  first 
as  a  point  of  honour,  became  eventually  to  be  deemed  a  patriotic 
duty,  and  every  Southern  family  and  household  participated 
in  more  or  less  degree  in  the  work  of  entertainment. 

Of  course  many  of  these  refugees,  who  were  possessed  of  the 
means  to  do  so,  provided  for  themselves;  maintained  their  own 
establishments,  or  paid  board.  But  in  many  instances  they 
were  received  by  friends  or  relatives  in  the  South  who  were 
already  barely  able  to  live  without  such  additional  strain  upon 
the  domestic  menage,  and  kept  as  long  as  they  chose  to  remain. 
And  even  when  board  was  paid,  it  was  usually  ridiculously  cheap 
when  the  high  prices  of  all  necessaries  of  life  and  the  rapid  and 
extreme  depreciation  of  Confederate  money  is  considered. 
Very  often,  too,  when  board  was  ostensibly  charged,  it  was 
merely  nominal  and  in  the  shape  of  some  slight  contribution 
to  the  maintenance  of  the  household.  I  knew  of  one  case  in 
which  the  host  positively  refused  any  return  for  furnishing 
lodging  and  food  to  a  lady,  child,  and  nurse  for  several  months, 
beyond  the  small  sum  required  to  provide  candles,  and  of  an 
other  in  which  he  was  induced,  with  difficulty,  to  accept  as 
compensation  the  present  of  a  horse.  As,  in  this  latter  case, 
the  officer  who  thus  discharged  his  obligation  was  a  raid 
ing  cavalry  man,  it  may  be  inferred  that  he  made  payment 
for  the  board  of  his  family  in  a  kind  of  currency  which  he 
always  had  on  hand. 

But  the  most  notable  feature  of  it,  perhaps,  was  the  accom 
modation  extended  those  who  would  now,  in  hotel  parlance,  be 
termed  "transient  guests,"  travellers  seeking  temporary  enter 
tainment.  Houses  sometimes  were  thronged  with  such  visitors, 
all  strangers,  who  would  consume  at  one  meal  enough  food 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  261 

to  reduce  the  families  to  the  verge  of  subsequent  famine.  When 
a  railroad  train  would  discharge,  in  some  small  town  and  in  the 
dead  of  night,  a  crowd  of  passengers  that  was  many  times  too 
large  for  the  small  and  miserably  furnished  tavern,  applicants 
for  shelter  would  flock  to  every  house  in  sight;  it  was  asked 
with  confidence  and  generally  readily  granted;  to  women  and 
children,  at  least,  it  was  rarely  refused. 

The  generosity  with  which  the  Southern  people  then  gave  out 
of  their  scanty  resources  was  even  less  remarkable  than  their 
entire  willingness  to  incur  any  amount  of  trouble  or  annoyance. 
Such  a  spirit  may  be  in  a  measure  explained  by  the  temper  and 
conditions  of  the  immediate  period,  but  it  was  largely  due  to 
the  character  of  a  civilization  which  has  passed  away. 

A  great  many  stories  have  been  told  illustrative  of  the  ex 
traordinary  and  constant  depreciation  of  Confederate  money 
as  the  war  progressed,  and  it  is  something  which  it  would  be 
almost  impossible  to  exaggerate.  Indeed,  when  we  recall  the 
extent  to  which  it  had  proceeded  long  before  the  final  disaster, 
it  is  difficult  to  realize  how  it  could  have  in  any  degree  performed 
the  functions  of  money,  or  have  been  received  as  such  at  all. 

The  Richmond  man  who  averred  that  he  carried  his  money 
to  market  in  a  basket  and  brought  the  dinner  back  in  his  vest 
pocket,  did  not  inaptly  describe  the  cheapness  of  the  currency, 
and  the  high  prices  of  food.  t 

Every  old  soldier  and  citizen  of  the  Confederacy  remembers 
how  the  value  of  all  the  necessaries  of  life  went  up,  and  how 
wofully  that  of  the  money  went  down.  The  citizens  used  money 
scarcely  at  all,  but  lived  almost  entirely  upon  what  they  pro 
duced.  The  soldiers  were  partially  provided  for  by  the  govern 
ment;  but  rations  and  clothing  were  inadequate,  at  every  period 
of  the  war,  to  their  real  needs,  and  were  so  scantily  issued  to 
ward  the  end  as  to  become  of  little  avail  unless  supplemented 
by  their  own  provident  efforts.  After  the  second  year  of  the 
war,  the  matter  of  pay  cut  very  little  figure,  except  that  there 
seems  to  be  something  gratifying  to  human  nature  in  the 
receipt  of  money  even  although  it  may  be  depreciated.  But 
whatever  theoretical  advantage  the  officer  who  received  one 
hundred  and  fifty  to  three  hundred  dollars  a  month  had  over 
the  private,  who  got  only  thirteen  dollars,  there  was  little 


262  REMINISCENCES  OF 

practical  financial  difference  between  them  when  a  pair  of  boots 
cost  two  hundred  and  fifty  or  three  hundred  dollars  and  a  jacket, 
shirt,  or  pair  of  trousers  were  sold  at  corresponding  prices. 
In  rural  communities  the  soldier  could  pretty  confidently  rely 
on  the  hospitality  of  the  householders,  for  in  the  direst  straits 
the  Southern  people  retained  that  characteristic.  But  if  by 
any  chance  a  man  was  enabled  to  visit  a  city,  he  found  that 
the  most  indifferent  meal  was  served  for  not  less  than  forty  or 
fifty  dollars,  and  if  he  patronized  the  bar  or  the  cigar  stand, 
his  money  went  as  if  he  were  literally  burning  it. 

I  remember  that  on  one  occasion,  when  riding  alone  at  night 
in  south-western  Virginia  I  was  compelled  by  the  dense  dark 
ness  and  the  difficulties  of  the  road  to  stop  at  a  small  farm  house 
a  little  after  midnight.  The  proprietor  gave  me  two  bundles 
of  oats  for  my  horse  and  a  glass  of  milk,  and  let  me  lie  down  on 
his  bed  until  day-break.  He  made  no  charge,  but  as  I  happened 
to  have  a  twenty-dollar  Confederate  bill,  I  gave  him  that.  He  took 
it  without  comment,  as  he  doubtless  would  have  done  if  it  had 
been  smaller,  but  evidently  did  not  think  it  too  much ;  nor  did  I.  I 
thought  the  oats  and  milk  much  more  valuable  than  the  money. 
One  of  the  most  notable  features  of  the  monetary  deprecia 
tion  was  this  indifference  to  face  "values"  and  the  total  absence 
of  anything  like  fixed  or  regular  prices.  No  one  seemed  to  think 
there  was  any  material  difference  between  five,  ten,  or  twenty 
dollars,  or  at  least  to  consider  it;  and  articles  of  the  same  kind 
might  be  sold  upon  the  same  day  and  at  the  same  place  for 
widely  variant  prices. 

But  the  most  curious  thing  was  that  the  soldiers  were  rarely 
without  money;  some  of  them  seemed  always  to  have, 
estimated  in  bulk,  considerable  sums  of  Confederate  cur 
rency.  A  man  whose  pay  was  less  than  twenty  dollars  a 
month,  and  rarely  drawn,  would  have  about  his  person  hun 
dreds,  sometimes  thousands,  of  dollars.  How  he  procured 
it  was  a  mystery  never  solved,  at  least  by  me.  Of  course, 
good  luck  at  the  card  table  —  or  rather  on  the  blanket 
which  served  in  lieu  of  a  table  —  accounted  for  the  plethoric 
pockets  of  a  certain  number  of  these  camp-fire  plutocrats. 
But  then  how  was  it  that  so  many  were  winners  ?  and  how 
did  the  losers  get  the  money  they  parted  with  ? 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  263 

It  need  scarcely  be  said  that  the  nominal  amounts  —  that 
is  to  say  in  Confederate  currency  —  which  changed  hands  at 
cards,  were  quite  large.  One  unacquainted  with  the  true 
monetary  conditions  might  have  listened  with  amazement 
to  the  big  bets  made  in  the  poker  games,  and  have  wondered 
how  so  many  ragged  millionaires  could  possibly  have  been 
gathered  together. 

I  have  heard  of  one  such  game,  played  during  the  last  Christ 
mas  week  of  the  Confederacy,  which  was  remarkable  not 
only  for  the  reckless  manner  in  which  those  engaged  in  it 
wagered  their  "wads,"  but  also  as  exhibiting  the  generos 
ity  and  self-abnegation  of  the  Confederate  soldier.  There 
were  two  men  who  belonged  to  a  certain  cavalry  command 
who  had  been  associated  during  the  entire  war,  and  were  warm 
friends  and  sworn  comrades.  They  were  very  unlike  in  tempera 
ment,  for  Jim  was  sanguine  and  enterprising,  while  Billy  was 
stolid  and  conservative;  but  in  tastes  and  predilections  they 
were  much  in  unison,  except  that  Billy  was  rather  more  addicted 
to  the  use  of  liquor  than  was  Jim,  and  Jim  was  much  fonder 
of  gambling  than  was  Billy. 

One  day  Billy  learned  that  at  a  certain  small  distillery  not 
far  from  camp  a  very  superior  article  of  peach  brandy  was  to 
be  had  if  a  man  could  pay  for  it,  and  he  determined  to  procure 
some  of  it  at  any  cost.  He  had  on  hand  a  small  supply  of  "Pine- 
top,"  but  what  was  that  in  comparison  with  peach  brandy? 
So  obtaining  permission  to  leave  camp  for  a  few  hours  he  started 
in  hot  haste  after  the  brandy.  He  sampled  it  and  found  that 
it  exceeded  his  expectations,  was  even  better  than  it  had  been 
represented  to  be.  But,  as  he  had  feared,  the  price  at  which 
the  owner  held  it  was  "out  of  sight." 

He  offered  a  hundred,  two  hundred,  two  hundred  and  fifty 
dollars  a  gallon,  but  without  avail;  the  distiller  positively 
refused  to  sell  it  for  Confederate  money.  Finally,  with  much 
reluctance,  he  offered  a  two  dollar  and  half  gold  piece  which 
he  had  brought  from  home  when  he  enlisted,  and  had 
sacredly  preserved  during  the  many  weary  months  of  his  army 
life;  he  proposed  to  give  that  cherished  coin  for  three  gallons 
of  the  coveted  beverage.  The  distiller  consented,  of  course, 
and  Billy  carried  off  the  brandy  in  a  small  keg.  He  told  no 


264  REMINISCENCES  OF 

one  but  Jim  of  his  good  fortune  and  enjoined  secrecy  on  him. 
That  night,  however,  Jim  invited  four  or  five  other  comrades, 
who  were  accustomed  to  indulge  together  in  such  pastime,  to 
come  to  the  tent  he  and  Billy  occupied,  and  have  a  quiet  game. 

The  game  was  soon  in  full  blast,  but  Jim  played  in  fearful 
luck.  He  had  all  sorts  of  hands  beaten,  and  no  expedient  to 
which  he  resorted  could  propitiate  the  goddess  of  fortune.  He 
lost  all  of  his  own  money  and  borrowed  all  of  Billy's.  At  length 
when  he  had  only  fifty  dollars  remaining,  a  sure  opportunity 
of  recuperating  his  depleted  exchequer  offered  itself,  provided 
he  could  secure  the  means  with  which  to  improve  it.  The 
dealer  gave  him  four  hearts  and  he  drew  another,  making  a 
straight  flush.  All  of  the  players  came  in.  Jim  had  gotten 
Billy's  last  dollar,  but  he  suddenly  remembered  the  three  gallons 
of  peach  brandy,  and  felt  sure  that  it  would  prove  an  available 
asset.  The  man  "first  to  say"  bet  fifty  dollars,  the  second 
man  called;  Jim,  in  turn,  confident  that  one  of  the  others  would 
raise,  also  called.  Sure  enough,  the  next  man  raised  it  five 
hundred,  and  every  one  but  Jim  dropped  out. 

"Now,  Billy,"  said  Jim,  "you  must  lend  me  that 
brandy." 

Billy,  for  the  first  time  since  their  long  and  devoted  friend 
ship  had  begun,  evinced  an  indisposition  to  respond  to  Jim's 
wishes.  He  hesitated  and  burst  into  tears. 

"I  know  it's  a  great  sacrifice  I'm  demandin',"  said  Jim, 
"but  this  here's  a  crisis." 

Billy  slowly  and  sadly  produced  the  brandy. 

"Now,  gentlemen,"  said  Jim,  "you'll  all  agree  that  this  brandy 
is  worth  a  thousand  dollars  more  especially  as  I  mean  to  give 
each  man  a  drink  if  I  win  this  pot." 

The  man  who  had  bet  five  hundred  made  some  demurrer, 
but  the  others,  who  wanted  their  drinks,  overruled  him.  More 
over,  Billy's  declaration  that  "them  three  gallons  cost  two 
dollars  and  a  half  in  gold"  settled  the  matter.  The  brandy 
was  rated  at  a  thousand  dollars  in  Confederate  currency.  Jim 
saw  the  bet  of  five  hundred  and  raised  the  other  fellow  five 
hundred,  who,  inasmuch  as  he  held  four  nines,  called.  Jim 
was  rich  once  more,  and,  after  deducting  the  promised  drinks, 
returned  the  brandy  to  Billy. 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  265 

But  it  was  a  great  shock  to  Billy;  he  was  never  exactly  the 
same  man  again. 

In  the  long  cold  winter  of  1863-64,  when  Longstreet  occupied 
the  upper  portion  of  east  Tennessee,  his  cavalry,  watching 
Knoxville  and  vigilant  to  meet  any  Federal  advance,  was  not 
only  engaged  in  constant,  arduous  service,  but  was  subjected 
to  the  severest  privations.  A  certain  Tennessee  cavalry  regi 
ment,  which  was  generally  on  the  extreme  front,  adopted  a  camp 
regulation  to  the  effect  that  whenever  a  horse  broke  loose  and 
strayed  from  his  own  proper  premises,  the  party  upon  whom 
he  trespassed  should  have  the  right  to  confiscate  the  halter  which 
the  offending  quadruped  had  on.  Inasmuch  as  good,  service 
able  halters  were  scarce  and  in  demand,  the  privilege  was  rigor 
ously  exercised. 

One  night  "Mac"  and  "Ben,"  two  young  soldiers  belonging 
to  the  same  mess  and  sworn  companions,  had  collected  an  extra 
quantity  of  excellent  fodder.  After  giving  an  ample  "feed" 
to  each  of  their  horses,  they  disposed  the  residue  of  the  forage 
so  as  to  make  a  snug,  warm  bed,  and  retired  to  enjoy,  they  hoped, 
an  unusually  luxurious  repose. 

Ben's  horse,  it  should  be  remarked,  was  a  veteran  campaigner, 
known  throughout  the  regiment  as  "Old  Tige."  He  was  by 
no  means  a  beauty,  but  could  go  "all  the  gaits,"  gallop  a  week 
without  rest,  and  for  taking  care  of  himself  was  smarter  than 
a  quartermaster.  Ben  loved  him  like  a  brother.  In  the  dead 
hour  of  night  Mac  was  awakened  by  a  suspicious  tugging  at 
the  mass  of  fodder  in  which  they  were  embedded.  He  listened 
attentively,  and  there  could  be  no  mistake  about  it.  There 
was  a  strange  horse  after  the  fodder,  and  quite  probably  he  wore 
a  halter.  Here  was  a  glorious  chance  for  spoils.  He  shook 
off  all  drowsy  feeling,  awakened  Ben,  and  communicated  to 
him  the  important  fact  that  a  horse,  perhaps  having  a  halter 
on,  was  "stealin'  our  forage." 

It  was  at  once  agreed  that  Mac  should  slip  out,  seize  the  horse, 
give  him  a  good  hiding,  as  a  lesson  for  future  behaviour,  and 
of  course,  confiscate  the  halter.  It  was  very  dark,  but  Mac 
groped  his  way  to  the  back  of  the  shanty,  and  without  difficulty 
captured  the  trespasser. 


266  REMINISCENCES  OF 

"Now  tie  him  up  and  belt  him  good,"  said  Ben.  "Teach 
him  how  he  comes  foolin'  round  here,  eatin*  Old  'TigeV  feed." 
Mac,  having  procured  a  stout  brush,  proceeded  to  "belt"  him. 
From  the  vigorous  snorting  and  kicking  of  the  previously  docile 
animal  it  seemed  that  the  monitory  lesson  both  disgusted  and 
amazed  him.  "Now,  snake  off  his  halter,"  said  Ben,  when  the 
belting  was  over.  "Old  Tige's  is  gettin'  mighty  threadbare" 
Mac  slipped  off  the  halter  and  slipped  it  safely  under  the  fodder, 
and  the  pair  dropped  off  to  sleep  again.  They  were  roused 
by  the  bugle.  The  face  of  each  wore  a  broad  smile  at  the  recol 
lection  of  what  had  occurred  during  the  night.  Ben  trium 
phantly  reached  for  the  halter,  but  when  it  was  produced  a 
ghastly  change  came  over  his  face.  He  gasped  and  said  in  a 
faint  voice:  "This  is  Old  Tige's  halter.  It  must  have  been 
him  you  was  beltin'. " 

No  Tennesseean  who  served  in  the  Confederate  cavalry  is 
more  worthy  of  remembrance,  and  few,  perhaps,  are  more 
vividly  remembered  by  those  who  knew  him  well  than  Maj. 
"Dick"  McCann. 

In  the  beginning  of  the  war  he  enlisted  in  the  infantry,  but 
at  an  early  date  procured  a  transfer  to  Morgan's  command, 
and  was  soon  one  of  the  noted  men  in  it. 

Recklessly  brave  and  seeking  every  daring  and  hazardous 
adventure  that  cavalry  service  offered  or  suggested,  he  was, 
withal,  shrewd,  wary,  and  vigilant.  Thoroughly  trusted  by 
his  superiors  in  rank  and  possessing  and  deserving  the  confidence 
of  his  men,  he  was  extremely  active  as  well  as  efficient  in  every 
line  of  field  duty.  Although  inordinately  fond  of  scouting  and 
fighting,  he  was,  in  camp,  the  most  amiable  and  jovial  companion 
imaginable,  as  famous  and  popular  for  his  social  gifts  as  for 
his  soldierly  qualities. 

Upon  the  complete  organization  of  Ward's  fine  regiment, 
the  Ninth  Tennessee  cavalry,  he  became  its  major  and  was  one 
of  the  best  field  officers  in  Morgan's  division,  but  was  better 
known,  perhaps,  because  of  his  previous  experiences.  These 
were  many  and  varied,  and  most  of  them  quite  thrilling,  making 
his  name  a  familiar  one  in  the  ears  of  his  comrades.  Seated 
about  the  camp  fires  whose  gleams  lighted  up  the  glades  of  the 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  267 

Tennessee  woodlands  or  were  reflected  in  the  waters  of  the 
Cumberland,  they  had  many  a  story  to  tell  of  Dick  McCann 
and  his  exploits;  some  moving  to  admiration  and  some  to  mirth 
were  duly  chronicled  among  the  stirring  events  so  constantly 
ocurring  in  that  region. 

When  Morgan  entered  Kentucky  in  his  first  important  raid, 
McCann  was  left  with  a  few  men  to  scout  and  skirmish  in  the 
vicinity  of  Nashville,  and  produce  the  impression  that  a  strong 
force  of  Confederate  cavalry  was  still  there.  This  could  be 
done  only  by  the  most  active  and  ceaseless  work,,  but  he  was 
equal  to  the  task,  and  the  Federal  pickets  and  outposts  were 
given  little  rest,  and  he  took  none  himself.  In  this  sort  of  ser 
vice  he,  of  course,  incurred  a  fair  share*  of  personal  risk  but  on 
one  occasion  only,  I  believe,  thought  himself  really  in  danger 
of  death.  A  rifle  ball  struck  the  plate  of  his  sabre  belt,  glancing 
and  doing  him  no  serious  injury,  but  knocking  him  from  his 
saddle  and  jarring  him  severely.  "Bob,"  he  shouted  to  a  com 
rade,  "Bob,  I'm  killed.  Pass  me  the  bottle  before  I  die." 

When  General  Breckinridge  was  holding  Murfreesboro  and 
Bragg  was  leaving  Kentucky  after  his  futile  invasion  of  that 
state,  McCann  was  placed  in  command  of  some  three  or  four 
hundred  cavalry  which  Breckinridge  had  collected.  He  was 
required  to  observe  the  enemy  at  Nashville  and  all  intermediate 
points,  and  also  keep  Breckinridge  informed  of  movements  north 
of  the  Cumberland.  It  was  no  easy  task,  but  Major  McCann 
performed  it  thoroughly  and  successfully.  He  had  numerous 
skirmishes,  in  which,  fought  as  they  were  on  his  own  terms, 
he  generally  came  off  with  flying  colours,  and  he  made  a  great 
many  prisoners.  The  greater  part  of  these,  of  course,  were 
Federal  soldiers,  but  occasionally  a  non-combatant,  for  some 
reason,  would  fall  into  his  net.  One  such  unfortunate  was  a 
peddler,  who,  with  a  well-filled  pack  of  portable  articles,  was 
bent  on  making  a  commercial  tour  through  the  Confederacy. 
Dick  captured  him,  en  route,  a  few  miles  from  Murfreesboro 
and  brought  him  in. 

Among  other  things  of  light  weight  but  considerable  value 
which  were  in  this  party's  assortment  were  a  number  of  dia 
monds.  Now,  what  this  peddler  expected  to  do  with  diamonds 
in  Dixie  at  that  date,  or  why  he  should  be  willing  to  part  with 


268  REMINISCENCES  OF 

them  for  Confederate  money,  will  remain  an  unsolved  mystery. 
Nevertheless  he  had  them.  It  was  Major  McCann's  duty  to 
search  the  peddler's  pack  for  any  contraband  goods  he  might 
be  trying  to  smuggle  in,  or  for  any  treasonable  communication 
he  might  be  conveying  to  Southern  traitors.  In  making  his 
examination  the  Major  came  across  the  diamonds  and  was 
exceedingly  pleased.  He  at  once  informed  the  peddler  that 
the  jewels  must  be  turned  over  to  him  for  a  day  or  two,  but 
would  then  be  returned.  Inasmuch  as  the  peddler  could  not 
help  himself,  he  was  obliged  to  consent.  Major  McCann  fas 
tened  the  diamonds  —  there  were  some  ten  or  twelve  of  them 
—  upon  his  breast,  where,  shining  lustrously  against  the  dark 
background  of  his  somewhat  rusty  blue  flannel  shirt  and  gray 
jacket,  they  presented  a  very  picturesque  and  pleasing  spectacle. 

In  order  to  do  full  justice  to  himself,  McCann  took  two  days 
off  and  strutted  around  Murfreesboro  and  the  camps  in  the 
environs  with  the  diamonds  in  blazing  evidence.  The  peddler 
stuck  to  him  like  a  brother,  always  at  his  heels,  eying  him  care 
fully  and  exhibiting  a  wonderful  solicitude  in  his  welfare.  Finally 
the  major  announced  that  he  must  bring  his  holiday  to  a  close 
and  resume  business. 

"I'll  start  after  the  Yankees  to-morrow,"  he  said. 

"For  heaven's  sake,  don't  do  that,"  said  the  peddler.  "Don't 
take  any  risk.  You  might  be  killed." 

"Why,"  said  the  major,  "I  take  that  risk  every  day." 

"But  think  awhile,"  responded  the  peddler.  "You  may  be 
willing  to  lose  your  life,  but  I  can't  afford  to  lose  the  diamonds." 

Major  McCann  served  constantly  and  efficiently  during  the 
arduous  campaigning  of  the  autumn  of  1862  and  the  winter 
of  1863,  and  on  many  occasions  displayed  more  than  ordinary 
gallantry.  One  instance  in  which  his  courage  and  presence  of 
mind  were  conspicuous,  and  which  earned  him  the  warm  and 
grateful  commendation  of  General  Morgan,  is  deserving  of  es 
pecial  commemoration.  During  the  months  of  March  and  April, 
1863,  when  Rosecrans  was  massing  and  preparing  for  the  cam 
paign  which  culminated  in  the  battle  of  Chickamauga,  the 
Confederate  cavalry,  holding  the  country  to  the  south  and  east 
of  Murfreesboro,  was  incessantly  occupied  in  repelling  strong 
expeditions  sent  against  them  of  Federal  cavalry  backed  by 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  269 

formidable  detachments  of  infantry.  Having  a  long  line  to 
guard,  outnumbered  and  harassed  from  every  direction,  we  were 
sometimes  taken  at  disadvantage  and  suffered  disaster. 

On  April  2Oth,  a  general  advance  of  this  character  having 
been  made  on  our  entire  right  flank,  the  enemy  broke  through 
our  ward  and  dashed  into  McMinnville,  where  a  considerable 
quantity  of  supplies  was  stored,  protected  by  a  very  small 
garrison.  Morgan's  and  Wharton's  divisions  were  twenty-five 
or  thirty  miles  distant  and  only  a  few  companies  of  cavalry 
were  picketing  in  front  of  McMinnville,  which  the  enemy, 
coming  in  heavy  force,  easily  drove  before  them.  General 
Morgan,  with  his  staff  and  three  or  four  officers,  happened  to 
be  in  McMinnville  at  the  time,  and  so  sudden  was  the  hostile 
advance  they  escaped  with  great  difficulty.  Two  or  more  Fed 
eral  columns  dashed  into  the  little  town  at  a  gallop,  sweeping 
like  a  flood  over  the  slight  resistance  which  the  few  defenders 
could  offer.  Morgan,  with  Colonel  Cluke,  Lieut.-Col. 
Martin  and  Major  McCann  —  fortunately  all  well  mounted  — 
barely  gained  the  road  to  Sparta,  the  only  avenue  of  safety, 
before  the  enemy  turned  into  it,  and  a  hot  skirmish  between 
these  four  and  the  leading  files  of  the  Yankee  column 
immediately  began.  Morgan  shot  the  officer  leading  the 
column;  Cluke  killed  a  man  also,  but  Martin  received  a  severe 
wound  through  the  lungs,  disabling  him,  and  McCann's 
horse  was  killed. 

McCann  was  not  stunned  by  the  fall,  and,  intent  on  doing 
something  to  aid  General  Morgan,  instantly  sprang  to  his  feet 
and  in  front  of  the  enemy,  shouting,  "I  am  Morgan.  You 
have  got  the  old  chief  at  last." 

He  was  at  once  ridden  down  and  sabred,  but  the  momentary 
check  he  occasioned  gave  the  others  a  "good  start,"  which  they 
improved,  and  escaped. 

Although  badly  bruised,  as  well  as  gashed,  he  managed  to 
get  away  from  his  captors  that  night,  and  reached  Sparta  late 
the  next  evening.  I  saw  him  there,  a  day  or  two  afterward,  and 
his  head  and  face  were  so  covered  with  plasters  and  bandages 
that  it  was  hardly  possible  to  recognize  him. 

But  the  best  story  I  ever  heard  of  him,  I  think,  was  one  told 
by  a  friend  who  knew  him  intimately  in  his  ante-bellum  days. 


270  REMINISCENCES  OF 

In  his  early  youth,  McCann,  urged  by  the  love  of  adventure 
which  was  always  so  strong  in  his  nature,  enlisted  in  one  of  the 
filibustering  expeditions  which  invaded  Nicarauga.  He  re 
mained  there  some  months,  and  when  he  returned  brought  back 
with  him  a  considerable  stock  of  experience,  and  a  large  and 
very  intelligent  monkey.  This  animal  was  much  attached  to 
his  master  and  used  to  follow  him  like  a  dog.  Dick  reciprocated 
the  ape's  affection,  and  was  very  fond  of  making  him  exhibit 
the  tricks  he  had  learned.  The  monkey  finally  met  with  a 
sad  fate,  due  to  having  unduly  gratified  the  inquisitive  curiosity 
which  characterizes  those  creatures  and  a  good  many  human 
beings,  who  seem  closely  related  to  them. 

Dick  was  living  with  his  father  at  the  old  McCann  homestead, 
one  of  the  handsomest  places  about  Nashville.  His  mother, 
than  whom  no  kinder  or  better  old  lady  ever  lived,  was  a  notable 
housewife  and  manager,  and  felt  especial  pride  in  her  poultry. 
She  raised  every  spring  a  multitude  of  chickens,  and  would 
never  suffer  them  to  be  molested.  The  chickens  were  allowed 
more  privileges  than  the  members  of  the  family.  They  not 
only  strolled  and  scratched  everywhere  on  the  premises,  as  pleased 
them,  but  entered  the  house,  the  doors  of  which  were  always 
open  in  warm  weather,  in  flocks.  No  one  was  allowed  to  drive 
them  out  but  the  old  lady  herself,  and  she  did  so  in  a  very 
gentle  and  considerate  manner.  She  always  kept  some  fire 
burning,  at  all  seasons,  in  the  dining-room.  Over  the  mantel 
in  this  room  hung  a .  powder-horn  full  of  powder,  a  reminiscence 
of  the  pioneer  period,  not  uncommon  at  that  date  in  Tennessee 
and  Kentucky. 

Not  wishing  to  violently  alarm  her  chickens,  but  only  give 
them  a  gentle  hint  to  leave,  she  would,  when  they  gathered  too 
thickly  in  this  room,  pour  a  little  powder  into  the  palm  of  one 
hand,  throw  it  on  the  fire,  and  the  consequent  blare  and  splutter 
would  effectually  disperse  the  chickens.  The  monkey  was 
often  an  interested  spectator  of  this  proceeding,  and  one  day, 
when  the  chickens  had  invaded  the  room  in  unusual  numbers 
and  no  one  was  present  who  would  prevent  him,  he  determined 
to  perform  the  feat  himself.  But  a  monkey  has,  of  course,  little 
sense  of  proportion.  Instead  of  throwing  a  small  quantity  of 
powder  upon  the  fire,  he  dashed  the  entire  contents  of  the  horn 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  271 

to  it.  A  tremendous  explosion  ensued.  The  room  was  wrecked, 
the  air  was  filled  with  feathers,  and  the  monkey  completely 
disappeared. 

Dick  spoke  of  the  catastrophe  with  deep  feeling,  "I  made 
diligent  search  for  his  remains,"  he  said,  "to  give  them  Christian 
burial  in  the  family  graveyard.  But  I  could  only  find  one  of 
his  back  teeth  on  the  garden  fence." 


CHAPTER  XIV 

A  RECENT  examination  of  the  muster  rolls  of  the  regi 
ments  which  composed  the  division  of  calvary  com 
manded  by  Gen.  John  H.  Morgan  showed  them  to 
be  in  a  condition  very  much  to  be  regretted  by  the  surviving 
members  of  that  body  and  those  interested  in  its  history.  On 
account  of  the  constant  and  active  service  in  which  it  was  en 
gaged,  the  rolls  were  imperfectly  prepared  at  any  date;  after 
the  Ohio  raid  little  effort  to  keep  them  was  attempted,  and  they 
can  now  be  revised  and  partially  completed  only  by  data  fur 
nished  by  the  recollection  of  the  comparatively  few  survivors. 

Especial  effort  should  be  made  to  record  the  names  of  the 
men  who  fell  in  battle.  Unfortunately  little  attention  seems 
to  have  been  given  this  important  matter  by  those  who  compiled 
the  rolls  now  in  existence.  In  the  case  even  of  well-known 
officers,  who  were  killed  or  wounded,  there  is  frequently  no 
mention  of  such  casualities;  and  in  this  regard  the  private 
soldiers  had  been  almost  totally  overlooked. 

The  Second  Kentucky  Cavalry  —  the  regiment  commanded 
first  by  General  Morgan,  and  subsequently  by  myself,  Col. 
John  B.  Hutchinson,  and  Col.  Jas.  W  Bowles  —  has  suffered, 
apparently  in  this  respect  more  than  any  other;  or  perhaps, 
because  better  acquainted  with  it,  I  have  noticed  the  fact  more 
particularly  in  the  case  of  this  regiment. 

In  going  over  its  roll  the  memory  of  many  incidents,  almost 
forgotten,  were  vividly  recalled  by  the  names  of  men  I  had  well 
known,  but  of  whom  I  had  lost  all  trace,  and  of  whose  record 
little  could  be  learned  from  the  rolls. 

I  found  in  many  instances  that  the  death  of  men,  whom  I 
knew  had  been  killed  in  battle,  was  not  recorded;  and  in  several 
cases  the  names  of  men  who  had  been  killed  were  not  upon  the 
rolls.  How  such  omissions,  and  some  others  nearly  as  remark 
able,  could  have  occurred,  is  inexplicable.  With  one  name, 
that  of  Gideon  Morgan  Hazen,  a  peculiarly  melancholy  interest 

272 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  273 

is  connected.  He  had  enlisted  in  the  Second  Kentucky  cavalry 
at  Knoxville,  near  which  place  he  lived,  in  June,  1862.  He 
was  then  a  boy  of  about  sixteen,  and  was  a  relative  of  General 
Morgan.  I  never  knew  a  manlier  or  more  amiable  young  fellow, 
nor  a  better  soldier.  He  served  very  faithfully  to  nearly  the 
close  of  the  war,  and  was  promoted  for  courage  and  good  con 
duct.  About  the  middle  of  December,  1864,  a  detachment 
of  the  small  brigade  I  was  then  commanding  was  attacked  by 
a  heavy  force  of  the  enemy  at  Kingsport  in  east  Tennessee. 
A  number  of  my  men  were  killed  and  made  prisoners.  Young 
Hazen  was  with  this  detachment.  His  comrades  remembered 
his  taking  part  in  the  fight,  but  he  was  never  seen  or  heard  of 
afterward.  He  was  not  among  those  who  withdrew  from  the 
field,  his  body  was  not  found  among  the  slain,  nor  was  he,  so 
far  as  we  could  ever  learn,  among  those  captured.  His  father 
visited  the  Northern  prisons,  hoping  to  find  him  in  some  one 
of  them,  and  after  the  close  of  the  war  the  prison  records  were 
searched  for  his  name  but  without  finding  it.  He  was  probably 
cut  off  in  the  retreat  from  the  ground  on  which  the  combat  was 
fought,  and  killed  in  some  wild  corner  of  the  mountains;  but 
his  fate  is  unknown,  and  the  mystery  in  which  it  is  involved 
attaches  to  that  of  many  others. 

I  saw  the  name  of  another  young  and  unusually  gallant  soldier 
of  the  Second  Kentucky,  whom  I  knew  well  and  whose  death 
I  witnessed  —  James  Cardwell,  of  Harrodsburg,  Kentucky; 
yet  there  was  no  record  that  he  had  been  killed.  In  fact,  after 
three  years  of  continuous  and  arduous  service  he  was  killed  at 
Bull's  Gap  on  November  24,  1864;  On  that  day  my  brigade 
assaulted  a  strong  position,  crowned  with  entrenchments  and 
defended  by  a  force  much  stronger  than  my  own.  When  within 
thirty  or  forty  feet  of  the  works  my  line  was  staggered  and 
checked  by  a  fire  from  which  it  received  severe  loss.  Cardwell, 
calling  to  his  comrades  to  follow,  deliberately  walked  up  to  the 
entrenchments  and  was  shot  dead,  a  half  dozen  balls  piercing 
his  breast. 

In  the  case  of  men  whose  deaths  occurred  in  such  wise  as  to 
attract  peculiar  or  general  notice,  or  who  were  slain  in  fights 
of  some  magnitude,  the  failure  to  record  the  facts  on  the  rolls 
will,  of  course,  almost  invariably  be  corrected  so  soon  as  they 


274  REMINISCENCES  OF 

are  carefully  inspected.  But  many  men  were  killed  in  obscure 
skirmishes  or  minor  combats,  and  it  is  to  be  feared  that  a  proper 
record  of  their  fate  can  never  be  made. 

While  going  over  the  roll  of  company  "C,"  of  the  Second 
Kentucky,  with  a  former  member  of  that  company  to  assist  me, 
I  found  that  not  only  had  a  number  of  names  been  omitted, 
but  among  them  were  those  of  three  very  excellent  soldiers  who 
had  been  killed.  Among  the  names  missing  was  that  of  a  man, 
than  whom  no  one  in  the  regiment  was  better  known  —  Tom 
Boss.  Tom  was  not  killed,  but  it  wasn't  because  he  didn't 
give  the  Yankees  numerous  and  favourable  opportunities  to 
get  rid  of  him.  He  was  an  eccentric  fellow,  with  strongly  de 
fined  characteristics,  among  which  a  reckless  daring  was  con 
spicuous.  His  physique  was  striking,  although  by  no  means 
comely,  and  he  generally  had  his  antagonist  half  whipped  before 
the  fight  commenced.  His  shock  of  bristly  black  hair  and  big, 
bright,  black  eyes  seemed  to  threaten  disaster  to  any  one  who 
should  tackle  him.  He  was  fully  six  feet  six  inches  in  height 
and,  while  slender  and  lathy  in  build,  was  exceedingly  muscular 
and  agile.  He  frequently,  almost  habitually,  had  an  axe  strapped 
at  his  back,  and  could  wield  that  heavy  implement  with  one 
hand  as  easily  as  an  ordinary  man  would  handle  a 
hatchet. 

In  February,  1863,  Lieutenant-colonel  Bowles,  with  the 
greater  part  of  the  Second  Kentucky,  and  supported  by  an  Ala 
bama  battalion  under  Lieutenant-colonel  Malone  attacked  a 
Federal  force  at  Brady ville.  For  awhile  the  Confederates 
drove  every  thing  before  them.  But  the  enemy  was  much 
stronger  than  they  had. supposed  them  to  be,  and  consisted  of 
both  cavalry  and  infantry.  The  Federal  regiments  closed  in 
on  all  sides  until  the  Confederates  were  completely  surrounded. 
They  were  compelled  to  fight  their  way  back  and  out,  and  it 
was  sharp  and  hot  work  to  do  so.  In  the  melee  a  Federal 
captain  rode  up  to  Tom  Boss  and  struck  him  on  the  head  with 
his  sabre.  Tom  had  perhaps  exhausted  the  loads  in  his  rifle 
and  pistol,  or  it  may  be,  that  he  considered  his  foeman's  conduct 
as  a  challenge  to  combat  with  the  "white  weapon."  At  any 
rate  he  snatched  his  axe  from  its  sling,  thrust  out  his  long,  sinewy 
left  arm,  catching  his  adversary's  throat  with  a  grip  like  that 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  275 

of  a  gorilla,  and  with  his  right  dealt  him  a  blow  on  the  skull 
that  drove  the  blade  of  the  axe  down  to  his  eyes. 

I  was  reminded  of  one  incident  which  I  had  long  forgotten, 
but  which  was  immediately  and  vividly  recalled  when  I  heard 
it  referred  to.  Just  after  Morgan's  command  had  returned 
to  Tennessee,  at  the  conclusion  of  the  First  Kentucky  raid, 
it  was  encamped  near  Sparta.  General  Morgan,  for  some  reason, 
had  gone  to  Knoxville,  leaving  me  in  command.  The  question 
of  rations  was  just  then,  as  it  very  often  became,  a  serious  and 
a  very  pressing  one.  We  were  unable  to  receive  supplies  from 
the  Confederate  commissariat  because  remote  from  and  not 
often  in  touch  with  it,  and  were  compelled  to  live  off  of  the 
country;  and  the  immediate  region  where  we  were,  although 
fertile,  was  sparsely  settled,  and  had  already  been  drawn  on 
for  food  supplies.  It  was  not  difficult  to  get  a  pretty  good  supply 
of  meat  and  vegetables,  but  almost  impossible  to  get  even  a 
small  quantity  of  bread.  Flour  could  be  obtained,  but  we  had 
few  cooking  utensils,  and,  although  the  people  were  quite  willing 
to  prepare  it  for  us,  we  could  not  depend  on  their  aid  for  an 
adequate  or  constant  supply. 

In  this  dilemma,  it  occurred  to  me  to  have  a  good-sized  baking 
oven  constructed  out  of  some  loose  bricks  that  were  lying  around, 
relics  of  a  deserted  and  tumbled  down  little  house;  so  I  caused 
the  bugler  to  make  proclamation  that  I  wanted  the  services 
of  two  or  three  expert  bricklayers  —  feeling  sure  that  there 
must  be  some  in  the  command  —  to  build  this  oven,  promising 
that  they  should  be  rewarded  for  their  work.  In  response 
Tom  Boss  and  a  man  named  Jackson  reported,  went  to  work, 
and  in  a  day  or  two  constructed  one  which  did  very  well,  enabling 
us  to  make  a  fairly  good  apology  for  bread.  I  then  asked  Boss 
and  Jackson  what  I  should  do  to  compensate  them  for  their 
services.  I  should  state  that  there  were  quite  a  number  of 
small  distilleries  —  "stills"  they  were  called  —  within  five  or 
six  miles,  and  the  men  had  exhibited  such  propensity  to  visit 
them  that  I  had  been  compelled  to  keep  a  strong  detail  on  duty 
all  the  time  as  provost  guard,  and  which  was  especially  con 
cerned  in  keeping  the  men  away  from  the  "stills." 

Messrs.  Boss  and  Jackson  consulted  apart  for  a  few  moments, 
when  I  put  the  question  about  compensation,  and  then  returning 


276  REMINISCENCES  OF 

announced  that  they  would  like  to  have  three  days'  furlough, 
to  go  where  they  pleased,  and  particularly  not  to  be  interfered 
with  "by  that  d  —  d  provost  guard." 

I  knew,  of  course,  where  they  wished  to  go,  and  rather  de 
murred;  but  they  insisted  it  must  be  that  or  nothing.  They 
came  back,  all  right,  at  the  expiration  of  the  three  days,  and 
seeing  Boss  I  asked  him  about  the  trip.  "I  hope,  Tom,"  I 
said,  "that  you  conducted  yourselves  properly." 

"Yes,  sir,"  he  replied,  with  great  dignity,  "we  did.  Me 
and  Jackson  never  does  nothing  wrong.  We  jest  had  a  high 
old  time." 

Some  one  told  me  a  story  related  to  him  by  the  pilot  of  one 
of  the  boats  captured  at  Brandenburg  on  the  Ohio  raid  and  used 
to  transport  Morgan's  command  across  the  river.  The  pilot 
said  that  he  was  briefly  informed  of  what  he  was  to  do;  that 
the  boat  would  be  loaded  with  the  troops  and  artillery  to  be 
ferried  over  to  the  Indiana  shore  and  there  disembarked,  and 
this  process  was  to  be  repeated  until  all  were  across.  He  stated 
that,  with  the  officer  who  gave  these  directions,  there  was  an  ex 
tremely  tall,  dark,  saturnine,  and  truculent  looking  soldier  who  was 
left  in  the  pilot  house  evidently  to  watch  him.  This  formidable 
looking  individual  announced  curtly  and  rather  sternly,  "I'm 
here  as  a  guard  to  see  that  you  act  right,  and  I  don't  want 
no  nonsense."  He  then  proceeded  to  make  himself  as  com 
fortable  as  possible,  selecting  a  convenient  corner,  but  first 
placing  his  rifle  where  it  would  be  handy,  and  hitching  the 
holster  of  a  big  navy  revolver  within  easy  reach. 

The  pilot  admitted  that  he  was  at  first  greatly  alarmed. 
The  appearance  of  this  grim  sentry  boded  every  thing  but  good 
to  any  one  who  might  give  him  offence,  and  he  determined  to 
strictly  observe  the  warning  "to  act  right"  and  indulge  in  "no 


nonsense." 


The  process  of  crossing,  however,  was  slow,  as  it  required 
some  time  to  embark  men  and  horses  on  the  Kentucky  side 
of  the  river  and  even  more  to  put  them  off  on  the  other,  and 
after  an  hour  or  two  his  feeling  of  awe  and  apprehension  passed 
away,  and  was  succeeded  by  one  of  curiosity.  He  finally  ven 
tured  to  open  conversation  with  his  custodian. 

"My   name    is    Smith,"  he    said.     "Would    you    object   to 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  277 

letting  me  know  your  name,  so  I  may  remember  the  person 
to  whom  I  owe  the  pleasure  of  this  visit?" 

"Oh,  no,"  responded  the  big,  fierce-visaged  rebel,  very 
affably;  "I  ain't  at  all  partick'ler  about  who  I  makes  acquaint 
ance  with.  My  name's  Tom  Boss." 

Then  the  pilot  inquired,  "How  long  do  you  generally  remain 
on  your  post  when  you  are  on  guard?" 

"Well,"  said  Mr.  Boss,  "we  cavalry  stands  four  hours  on 
and  eight  off.  The  web-feet,  the  infantry  I  mean,  stands  two 
on  and  four  off.  As  we  generally  do  twice  as  much  work  as 
they  do,  while  we  are  about  it,  we  need  twice  as  long  rest." 

The  conversation,  having  thus  opened,  continued  very  pleas 
antly;  and  finally,  while  they  were  lying  at  the  Indiana  shore, 
to  allow  a  battalion  to  disembark,  Mr.  Boss  remarked,  casually, 
"Have  you  got  anything  on  this  boat  to  drink,  stronger  than 
water?  I'm  beginning  to  feel  powerful  dry." 

"Why,  certainly,"  said  the  pilot,  "I'll  get  it  for  you;"  and 
he  skipped  down  the  ladder,  three  steps  at  a  jump,  rushed 
into  the  bar-room  and  called  to  the  bar-tender:  "Here,  make 
two  real  stiff  toddies  as  quick  as  you  can." 

The  drinks  were  prepared  and  the  pilot  returned  with  them 
to  the  hurricane  deck  and  the  society  of  his  guard.  It  was 
his  intention  to  drink  one  of  the  toddies  himself,  for  he  felt 
that  he  needed  it;  but  when  he  came  within  reach  of  Mr.  Boss, 
out  shot  both  of  that  worthy's  long  arms,  a  glass  was  grasped 
in  each  hand  and  drained,  one  after  the  other  with  a  scarcely 
perceptible  interval  of  time. 

Then  Tom  smacked  his  lips  and  said  slowly  and  impressively: 

"You  needn't  fetch  anymore  until  jest  before  I'm  relieved. 
I  don't  like  to  drink  too  much  while  I'm  on  duty." 

It  can  be  readily  understood,  even  by  those  who  have  had 
no  such  experience,  that  the  rigid  discipline  and  exact  observance 
of  military  etiquette  which  obtains  —  or  is  supposed  to  obtain 
—  in  all  regular  armies  and  among  professional  soldiers,  must 
be  largely  relaxed  in  the  volunteer  service.  Such  was  the  case 
during  the  Civil  War,  but  more  so,  perhaps,  in  the  Confederate 
than  in  the  Federal  army.  The  volunteer,  as  a  rule,  and  espe 
cially  in  the  early  part  of  the  war,  before  the  rapidly  depleting 


278  REMINISCENCES  OF 

ranks  were  filled  by  the  draft  or  the  conscription,  was  of 
quite  different  material  from  that  which  was  usually  enlisted 
in  the  "old"  or  regular  army  of  the  United  States.  He  entered 
the  ranks  not  as  a  means  of  procuring  a  livelihood,  but  from  a 
feeling  of  duty;  wishing  to  serve  his  country  in  her  need,  yet 
regarding  such  service  as  temporary,  accidental,  so  to  speak, 
and  to  a  certain  extent  a  personal  sacrifice.  He  readily  acquired 
military  habits  and  a  quite  thorough  knowledge  of  what  a  soldier 
is  expected  to  do.  He  became,  in  time,  one  of  the  most  formi 
dable  "veterans"  of  modern  warfare,  but  by  instruction  and 
experience,  rather  than  by  what  is  technically  meant  by  "dis 
cipline."  He  was  zealous,  attentive,  and  obedient,  not  so  much 
from  fear  of  authority  and  punishment,  as  from  feelings  of 
pride  and  patriotism:  more  from  a  sense  of  what  was  due  to 
himself  than  of  what  was  due  to  any  superior. 

Indeed,  the  authority  which  could  be  exercised  by  officers 
of  all  ranks  in  the  volunteer  service  was  much  in  proportion 
to  their  individual  strength  of  character  and  personal  ascen 
dency.  The  men  obeyed  much  more  implicitly  those  whom 
they  admired  and  who  could  win  their  confidence. 

Of  course,  this  sort  of  feeling  induced  a  relation  between 
officers  even  of  high  rank  and  the  private  soldiers,  out  of  which 
evolved  many  curious  and  amusing  incidents,  and  occasioned 
many  an  exhibition  of  waggish  "impudence";  which,  however, 
savoured  in  nowise  of  insolence  or  lack  of  proper  respect. 
Nearly  every  collector  of  such  anecdotes  will  remember  a 
story  told  on  "Stonewall  Jackson,"  which  well  illustrates  my 
meaning.  It  was  old  "  Stonewall's "  habit  not  only  sternly 
to  issue  and  strictly  to  enforce  orders  against  straggling  and 
depredations  of  all  kinds,  but  on  one  important  march,  so  saith 
the  chronicler  in  this  instance,  he  gave  instructions  that  no  one, 
officer  or  private,  should  answer  a  question  of  any  description, 
lest  his  (Jackson's)  destination  and  objective  might  be  disclosed. 

It  happened  that  during  the  march,  having  for  some  reason 
dropped  to  the  rear,  the  general  discovered  a  young  fellow, 
evidently  one  of  his  soldiers,  snugly  ensconced  in  a  cherry  tree 
and  making  havoc  with  the  fruit.  "What  are  you  doing  there?" 
thundered  the  general. 

"Can't  tell  you,  sir,"  said  the  soldier. 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  279 

"You  can't,  eh?  What's  your  name,  and  what  regiment 
do  you  belong  to?" 

"Don't  know,  sir." 

"Why,  you  impudent  rascal;  what  do  you  mean  by  talking 
that  way  to  me?" 

"Well,  mister!"  said  the  soldier,  with  an  air  of  great  candour, 
"I'd  like  to  oblige  you;  but,  you  see,  I  belong  to  old  Jack's 
foot  cavalry,  and  he's  issued  orders  that  none  of  his  men  shall 
answer  any  questions,  so  I  can't  tell  nothin'  to  nobody.  But 
if  you'll  ask  him,  I  reckon  you  can  find  out  all  you  want  to  know." 

This  response  was  too  much  even  for  "Old  Jack,"  and  he 
rode  off,  his  shoulders  shaking  with  silent  laughter.  On  account 
of  their  peculiar  service  this  latitude  of  conduct  and  speech 
obtained  more  with  the  cavalry  than  with  the  infantry,  and 
there  were  frequent  instances  of  it  in  Morgan's  command. 
General  Morgan's  peculiar  sense  of  humour  was  always  tickled 
by  a  really  good  specimen  of  this  sort  of  thing,  and  I  have 
known  more  than  one  offender  escape  punishment,  more  or 
less  deserved,  by  adroitly  "four  flushing"  at  the  right  time. 

During  the  winter  of  1862-63,  while  Morgan's  command  was 
encamped  along  Stone  River  between  Murfreesboro  and  Nash 
ville,  a  detachment  of  the  Seventh  Kentucky  Cavalry  was  one 
night  on  picket  and  stationed  on  the  L'Auvergue  Pike.  An 
Irishman,  Tom  Murphy,  well  known  throughout  the  command, 
was  in  this  squad,  and  was  posted  as  advance  vidette  in  the 
fore  part  of  the  night.  The  night  was  cold  and  extremely 
dark.  Shortly  before  midnight,  and  when  he  was  anxiously 
expecting  the  arrival  of  the  "relief,"  he  heard  a  tremendous 
noise  on  the  pike  in  front  of  him,  the  rapid  trampling  of  many 
hoofs,  a  clatter  and  mad  gallop,  which  made  him  think  that 
the  entire  Yankee  cavalry  was  coming,  and  coming  "for  busi 
ness."  Tom  was  a  very  daring  fellow,  and  usually  quite  cool, 
but  this  noise  in  the  dark  was  trying.  He  could  see  nothing, 
and  he  knew  that  the  terrible  din,  drawing  every  instant  nearer, 
would  prevent  any  challenge  from  being  heard,  far  less  heeded. 
So  blazing  away  at  the  approaching  tempest,  he  turned  and 
made  at  full  speed  for  the  picket  base,  consoling  himself  with 
the  hope  that  he  had  reduced  at  least  one  Yankee  to  that  con 
dition  in  which  only,  according  to  Sheridan,  Indians  are  "good." 


280  REMINISCENCES  OF 

"What's  the  matter?"  queried  Lieutenant  Pickett,  com 
manding  the  guard,  as  Tom  dashed  up. 

"The  whole  d d  Yankee  army  is  a'  top  of  us,"  shouted 

Tom,  "but  I  fixed  one  ov  'em,  I  know." 

The  lieutenant  immediately  despatched  a  courier  to  General 
Morgan,  because  the  clatter,  which  by  this  time  reached 
his  ears,  was  alarmingly  suggestive,  and  then  mounting  his 
squad,  proceeded  to  reconnoitre  and  investigate.  In  a  short 
time  it  was  discovered  that  Tom  hadn't  been  routed  by  the 
Yankee  army,  but  by  a  large  herd  of  cattle  which  had  been 
feeding  in  a  large  field  on  the  side  of  the  road  and  frightened 
in  some  way,  had  stampeded,  broken  through  the  fence,  and 
come  rattling  down  the  pike  after  a  fashion  that  might  have 
deceived  any  vidette. 

But  the  whole  command  had  been  aroused  and  called  to 
arms  before  this  discovery  was  made,  and  General  Morgan, 
seriously  angry  when  he  learned  that  it  was  a  false  alarm,  ordered 
that  the  offender  should  be  brought  to  him.  A  few  questions, 
however,  elicited  the  true  state  of  the  case  and  showed  that 
Tom  was  not  to  blame;  and  when  it  transpired  that  an  old 
bull  which  was  in  the  herd  had  been  the  unfortunate  recipient 
of  Tom's  bullet,  the  general's  indignation  entirely  gave  way 
to  amusement. 

"Why  Tom,"  he  said,  "I'm  surprised  at  you;  to  shoot  an 
unoffending  beast  just  as  you  would  a  Yankee!  The  bull 
wouldn't  have  hurt  you.  I'll  guarantee  that  you  don't  even 
know  whether  or  not  he  had  horns." 

Tom  was  quick  to  discern  the  general's  change  of  mood  and 
to  take  advantage  of  it. 

"No,  begorra!"  he  replied.  "The  night  was  so  dark,  and 
I  was  afther  lavin'  in  sich  a  hurry  that  I  cudn't  see,  sor,  if  he 
had  horns  or  didn't.  But,  gin'ral"  —  this  in  an  exceedingly 
insinuating  tone  —  "owin'  to  the  could  and  the  skeer,  I'd  like 
mighty  well  to  have  a  horn  mesilf." 

Tom  was  given  a  good,  stiff  "horn,"  and  shortly  afterward, 
by  General  Morgan's  direction,  was  detailed  for  duty  as  courier 
at  headquarters. 

But  the  climax  of  impudence  —  of  superlative,  unparalleled 
"gall"  —  was  reached  by  the  famous  Jeff  Sterritt,  the  man 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  281 

most  renowned  among  all  the  Kentucky  Confederates  for 
resourceful  humour  and  audacity. 

Jeff  Steritt,  Jack  Trigg,  and  Tom  Ballard  were  the  all-licensed 
jesters,  the  "chartered  libertines"  of  Morgan's  command. 
Bright,  good-humoured,  and,  despite  their  numerous  escapades 
really  good  soldiers,  they  were  always  getting  into  scrapes  which 
would  have  caused  other  men  serious  trouble,  and  always 
coming  out  with  flying  colours.  General  Morgan  treated  them 
with  the  greater  leniency  because  they  were  among  his  earliest 
followers. 

In  the  spring  of  1863  the  two  brigades  of  Morgan's  division 
were  keeping  watch  on  the  upper  Cumberland,  the  regiments 
stationed  at  convenient  points  for  such  purpose  along  the  river. 
General  Morgan's  headquarters  were  at  McMinnville,  some 
thirty  miles  in  the  rear.  General  Wheeler's  headquarters, 
were  also  there,  and  a  detachment  of  infantry  of  the  "Orphan" 
brigade,  under  Maj.  J.  C.  Wickliffe,  was  at  the  same  point 
guarding  stores.  A  large  crowd  of  staff  officers,  quartermasters 
and  commissaries,  with  their  clerks  and  attaches,  were,  there 
fore,  quartered  in  the  little  town.  Such  a  condition  offered 
attractions  to  gentlemen  who  find  profit  in  contributing  to  the 
amusement  of  their  fellow  men,  and  an  enterprising  faro  dealer 
"opened  up"  at  McMinnville  and  drove  a  thriving  business. 
But  the  men  on  the  front,  finding  out  what  was  going  on  in 
the  rear,  contracted  the  habit  of  slipping  away  from  camp  in 
order  to  enjoy  the  game.  They,  of  course,  rode  hard  that 
they  might  lose  as  little  time  as  possible,  and,  as  a  consequence, 
many  horses  were  rendered  unfit  for  service.  The  brigade 
commanders  soon  discovered  why  so  many  men  were  absent 
without  leave  and  why  so  many  horses  were  disabled,  and, 
after  unavailing  efforts  to  check  the  evil,  informed  General 
Morgan  of  the  cause  and  urged  him  to  suppress  the  bank. 
General  Morgan  sent  for  the  faro  dealer  and  ordered  him,  under 
threat  of  condign  punishment,  to  cease  operations.  The  man 
promised,  and,  perhaps,  sincerely,  to  quit,  but  some  of  the 
officers  persuaded  him  to  continue  clandestinely  for  the  benefit 
of  a  favoured  few.  It  was  impossible,  however,  to  keep  such 
a  matter  secret  or  to  limit  it,  and  in  a  short  time  things  were  as 
bad  as  before. 


282  REMINISCENCES  OF 

General  Morgan  got  word  of  what  was  being  done,  and  im 
mediately  ordered  the  provost  guard  to  arrest  the  dealer  and 
every  man  found  in  his  place;  and  among  others  Sterritt, 
Ballard,  and  Trigg  were  caught.  Each  of  the  three  had  been 
given,  by  General  Morgan's  special  direction,  an  easy  berth 
at  headquarters,  and  his  wrath  was  great  when  he  learned 
how  they  had  requited  his  kindness.  He  ordered  them  to 
be  brought  before  him,  upbraided  them  with  their  ungrateful 
conduct,  and  promised  to  make  an  example,  long  to  be  remem 
bered,  of  each  one. 

"Trigg,"  he  asked  finally,  and  rather  unnecessarily,  what 
were  you  doing  there  ?" 

Jack  saw  his  chance,  and,  like  the  strategist  that  he  was, 
at  once  availed  himself  of  it.  "General,"  he  answered,  "I 
went  there  to  find  Ballard." 

"  Well,  Ballard,"  said  the  general,"  what  were  you  doing  there  ?" 

"I  went  there,"  said  Ballard,  "to  find  Sterritt." 

This  left  Jeff  last  in  say,  and  with  no  hope  of  evasion.  He 
saw  that  his  only  safety  was  in  candour.  So  that  when  the 
general  sternly  addressed  the  same  question  to  him,  he  in 
genuously  responded,  "Do  you  mean,  general,  what  I  was  doing 
when  I  was  arrested?" 

"Yes,"  said  the  general,  "what  were  you  doing  then?" 

"Well,  sir,  to  the  best  of  my  recollection,  I  was  coppering 
the  ace." 

There  was  a  long  pause,  Sterritt  had  returned  a  categorical 
answer  to  a  direct  question,  and  had  answered  truthfully. 
The  tragedy  was  rapidly  becoming  a  farce. 

"You  incorrigible  wretch,"  said  the  general  at  last,  "what 
ought  I  to  do  with  you?" 

"  If  you  have  any  doubt  about  the  matter,  general,"  suggested 
Jeff,  timidly,  and  as  if  honestly  seeking  to  solve  a  difficulty, 
"you  might  give  me  a  thirty  days'  furlough." 

During  the  latter  part  of  the  war  a  certain  tract  of  country 
lying  along  the  border  line  of  Kentucky  and  Tennessee  and 
including  a  portion  of  the  territory  of  each,  was  known  as  the 
"debatable  ground."  It  doubtless  received  this  appellation 
from  some  one  who  remembered  that  the  same  name  was 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  283 

applied  to  the  land  adjoining  the  Scotch  and  English  frontier 
before  the  two  kingdoms  were  united.  At  any  rate,  it  was 
given  for  a  similar  reason.  It  was  territory  never  permanently 
occupied,  but  alternately  and  frequently  visited  by  the  com 
batants  on  both  sides,  and,  of  course,  its  inhabitants  were  un 
usually  subject  to  the  smaller  annoyances,  if  not  the  direr  evils, 
of  the  war,  and  were  constantly  compelled  to  furnish  provender 
to  roving  cavalry  squads  of  both  armies. 

There  lived  in  this  region  one  especially  well-to-do  old  farmer. 
He  owned  a  large,  fertile,  and  productive  farm  and  a  good 
comfortable  house,  with  a  larder  always  fully  stocked  with 
nourishing  food  and  excellent  liquors.  Consequently,  the 
rambling  cavalry  men  frequently  called  on  him,  and  although 
he  enjoyed  their  company  much  less  than  they  did  the  enter 
tainment,  he  could  not  well  refuse.  One  day  he  had  especial 
reason  to  deplore  the  popularity  that  he,  or,  rather  his  premises, 
had  acquired.  About  that  time,  it  will  be  remembered  by 
many  old  soldiers,  the  Confederate  cavalry  men  had  gotten 
into  the  habit  of  dressing  very  much  like  the  Yankees  of  the 
same  branch  of  the  service.  The  Confederacy  did  not  issue 
clothing  liberally,  and  it  was  difficult  to  obtain  from  domestic 
sources;  so  the  Confederate  army  donned  captured  overcoats 
and  trousers  to  an  extent  which  sometimes  made  it  difficult 
to  distinguish  a  Confederate  cavalry  regiment  from  a  Federal. 

Upon  the  occasion  on  which  this  story  hinges,  a  squad  of 
mounted  men  rode  up  to  the  farmer's  house  early  in  the  morn 
ing  and  demanded  breakfast.  Of  course,  it  was  prepared  for 
them,  and  they  ate  heartily,  consuming  likewise  a  reasonable 
amount  of  peach  brandy.  When  they  had  finished,  one  of  the 
party  asked  the  old  gentleman  about  his  political  affiliations. 
He  had  been  expecting  such  a  question  and  had  been  earnestly 
endeavouring  to  "size  up"  the  crowd  accurately  in  order  that 
he  might  give  a  safe  answer.  He  had  found  it  impossible  to 
determine  from  their  dress  which  side  they  belonged  to,  and 
they  had  dropped  nothing  in  the  course  of  conversation  to 
enlighten  him,  so  he  was  obliged  to  guess.  He  guessed  that 
they  were  Confederates  and  answered  accordingly. 

"Most  of  the  folks  who  live  in  this  part  of  the  country," 
he  said,  "are  Union  men.  And  I  don't  blame  'em  much.  They 


284  REMINISCENCES  OF 

was  raised  old-line  Whigs,  and  followed  Mr.  Clay  in  everything. 
So  they've  stood  by  the  Union.  But  I  can't  see  it  that  way. 
All  of  my  kinspeople  live  in  the  South,  and  I've  always  owned 
niggers  myself,  therefore,  gentlemen,  I'm  a  rebeland  stand  by 
the  South." 

"The  blazes  you  do,"  was  the  unexpected  and  appalling 
reply.  "Well,  then  we'll  just  limb  skin  you,"  and  they  proceeded 
to  carry  out  the  threat. 

At  noon  another  gang  arrived,  and  again  the  old  man  was 
involved  in  harassing  doubt  as  to  their  identity.  But  as  the 
other  fellows  had  been  Federal  troops,  he  thought  it  highly 
probable  that  these  were  Federal,  also,  and  when  the  time  came 
he  guessed  that  way.  In  response  to  the  inquiry  regarding  his 
political  status  and  sympathies,  he  said  with  much  feeling: 

"Gentlemen,  I'll  tell  you  straight,  I  don't  know  how  you 
stand,  but  I've  got  nothing  to  conceal.  The  majority  of  the 
people  who  live  around  here  is  Southern  in  sentiment,  and  it 
isn't  any  fault  of  theirn.  Most  of  'em  owns  niggers  and  has 
kin  in  the  South,  and  it's  natural  for  'em  to  feel  that  way.  But 
I  can't  do  it.  I  was  brought  up  a  Henry  Clay  Whig,  and  always 
taught  to  love  the  Union,  and  I'm  fur  the  old  flag  and  the 
enforcement  of  the  laws." 

Then  the  gang  promptly  and  sternly  informed  him  that  his 
politics  needed  instant  and  serious  correction  and  that  he  would 
be  "  jayhawked,"  which  punishment  they  proceeded  to  inflict 
by  confiscating  the  greater  part  of  his  peach  brandy. 

Late  in  the  afternoon  as  the  farmer  was  sitting  on  his  veranda, 
mourning  over  the  devastation  of  his  household  goods  which 
the  day  had  witnessed,  another  crowd  put  in  an  appearance  and 
called  for  supper  and  drinks.  The  perplexity  and  incertitude 
which  had  assailed  him  in  the  two  former  cases,  dwindled  into 
insignificance  compared  with  the;  bewilderment  he  now  suffered. 
The  very  mothers  of  these  soldiers  couldn't  have  told  from  their 
garb  and  gait  whether  they  were  Yankee  or  rebel. 

After  eating  and  drinking  their  fill  and  making  a  tremendous 
gap  in  the  old  man's  remaining  store  of  provisions,  the  leader 
of  the  party  propounded  the  usual  question:  "Well,  old  gentle 
man,"  he  said,  "what  are  your  politics?" 

"What  am  I?" 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  285 

"  Yes,  that's  what  I  said.     What  are  you?" 
"Well,  mister,  to  tell  you  the  God's  truth,  Pm  nothing,  and 
d  —  n  little  of  that." 

A  better  soldier  than  Bob  McWilliams  never  shouldered  a 
rifle.  He  was  a  member  of  that  company  of  gallant  Missis- 
sippians  which  contributed  largely  to  the  reputation  of  Gen. 
John  H.  Morgan's  first  regimental  organization,  the  Second 
Kentucky  Cavalry,  C.  S.  A.  But,  although  an  excellent  soldier, 
Bob  was  by  no  means  deficient  in  a  knowledge  of  those  devices 
by  means  of  which  all  sorts  of  Confederate  soldiers  contrived 
to  add  to  the  scanty  rations  usually  issued  them,  and  sometimes 
obtain  even  luxurious  cheer.  Indeed,  he  was  remarkably 
successful  in  this  kind  of  foraging,  for  he  had  "a  face  like  an 
affidavit"  and  a  tongue  like  a  Jew's  harp;  and  whenever  and 
wherever  persuasive  eloquence  was  good  for  a  "square  meal" 
he  got  one. 

When  Morgan's  command  was  in  the  Bluegrass  region,  on 
what  was  known  as  the  "first  Kentucky  raid,"  the  men  sought 
to  make  up  for  previous  deprivations  by  a  voracious  consump 
tion  of  the  tempting  viands  with  which  that  country  abounded. 
Every  house  had  its  throng  of  self-invited  guests,  and  none 
was  sent  away  unsatisfied.  There  was  a  certain  mansion, 
however,  to  which  these  visitors  resorted  in  numbers  that  would 
have  alarmed,  if  not  exhausted,  ordinary  hospitality.  It  was 
the  dwelling  of  a  beautiful  and  stately  matron  of  the  olden 
time,  Mrs.  David  Castleman,  whose  dignity  and  grace  were 
equalled  only  by  her  charity.  She  was  an  intense  Southern 
sympathizer,  and  three  of  her  sons  were  with  Morgan;  the  eldest 
one  of  his  best  officers.  This  was  the  first  place  that  Bob 
struck,  in  his  irregular  search  for  supplies.  Two  long  tables 
were  spread  in  the  dining-room,  covered  with  appetizing  edibles, 
and  a  crowd  of  hungry  rebs  surrounded  each.  So  soon  as  the 
dishes  were  emptied  they  were  bountifully  replenished,  and 
as  fast  as  one  detachment  filled  up  and  fell  back,  another  one, 
with  craving  stomachs,  advanced  to  the  attack.  A  bevy  of 
lovely  damsels  waited  on  them,  and  pinned  bouquets  on  their 
gray  jackets  as  each  concluded  his  repast. 

Never  in  his  life  did  Bob  McWilliams  show  to  better  advantage 


286  REMINISCENCES  OF 

than  on  this  occasion.  He  ate  as  if  an  entire  platoon  was  en 
circled  by  his  belt;  he  discoursed  in  such  wise  that  the  young 
ladies  believed  him  to  be  a  weather-beaten,  sunburned  angel, 
and  when  at  length  he  finished  they  unanimously  bestowed 
on  him  the  choicest  bouquets.  But  then  he  suddenly  remembered 
something  which,  in  his  rage  of  hunger,  he  had  entirely  for 
gotten,  and  the  recollection  made  his  hair  bristle.  He  was  not 
only  ragged,  but,  from  a  certain  point  of  view,  absolutely  un 
presentable.  The  rear  of  his  pantaloons,  subjected  to  long  and 
hard  service,  had  given  way  in  complete  disorder.  So  long 
as  he  sat  in  the  saddle  this  condition  was  not  apparent  but 
was  almost  impossible  of  concealment  when  he  was  on  foot. 
Therefore,  when  he  could  eat  no  more,  had  stuffed  his  haver 
sack  with  ham  sandwiches,  and  had  received  more  than  his 
fair  share  of  flowers,  he  directed  all  of  his  ingenuity  to  effecting 
an  escape  without  exposure.  With  a  profusion  of  thanks 
and  compliments,  he  retired  backward  toward  the  door.  But 
the  girls  followed  him.  Still  bowing,  smiling,  and  chatting, 
but  in  a  perspiring  agony  of  fear,  he  retreated  through  the  hali 
and  across  the  veranda,  but  his  admirers  still  pursued  him. 
Down  the  steps  he  backed  and  moved  in  the  same  fashion  until 
he  had  gotten  around  the  corner  of  the  house.  Then,  as  he 
turned  about,  devoutly  thanking  heaven  that  at  last  he  was 
safe,  he  found  himself  face  to  face  with  his  hostess.  She  held 
in  her  hand  a  stout  pair  of  new  jeans  pants. 

"My  son,"  she  said,  "you  had  better  take  these.  I  think 
you  need  them  more  than  you  do  a  bouquet." 

Doubtless  many  of  the  survivors  of  the  Army  of  Tennessee 
remember  the  song  "Lorena,"  and  how,  in  the  latter  days  of 
the  war,  its  melodious  but  intensely  melancholy  strains  used 
to  sadden  as  well  as  soothe  the  bivouac.  Just  after  the  final 
surrender  Gen.  Frank  Cheatham,  of  Tennessee,  and  Gen. 
John  S.  Williams  —  better  known  as  "Cerro  Gordo"  Williams 
—  of  Kentucky,  were  wen-ding  their  way  northward  in  the  hope 
of  sometime  regaining  their  ante-bellum  homes.  They  were, 
of  course,  sore  and  dejected,  and,  notwithstanding  the  personal 
friendship  which  existed  between  them,  found  matter  for 
acrimonious  discussion  in  every  topic  which  either  broached. 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  287 

Finally  they  got  upon  the  causes  of  Confederate  failure. 
Cheatham  asserted  that  it  was  due  entirely  to  the  timidity  and 
irresolution  of  Kentucky.  Had  Kentucky  joined  and  assisted 
the  Southern  movement,  he  claimed,  it  would  have  been  suc 
cessful.  This  Williams  stoutly  denied.  On  the  contrary,  he 
contended,  the  reason  why  Kentucky  did  not  cast  her  lot  with 
the  South  was  because  she  was  prevented  by  the  incertitude 
and  hesitation  of  Tennessee.  Moreover,  there  were,  he  insisted, 
other  and  serious  objections  to  the  Tennesseeans.  "If  I  had 
nothing  else  against  your  people,  Cheatham,"  he  said,  "I'd 
avoid  them  because  they're  always  singing  that  infernal  heart 
breaking  song,  'Lorena.'  '  Then  Cheatham  swore  by  all  that 
he  held  holy  that  the  song  had  never  been  heard  in  Tennessee, 
and  that  no  Tennesseean  ever  had  sung  or  ever  would  sing  it. 
The  dispute  waxed  hot  and  finally  culminated  in  a  bet,  pro 
posed  by  Williams,  that  the  very  first  Tennesseean  they  met 
with  would  either  be  singing  "Lorena"  or  would  sing  it  before 
he  got  out  of  hearing.  Cheatham  promptly  accepted.  Each  had 
about  two  dollars  in  silver  and  they  put  it  up. 

At  that  date  the  woods  and  the  roads  were  full  of  disbanded 
Confederate  soldiers,  and  they  soon  came  upon  one.  He  was 
a  tall,  stalwart  young  fellow,  seated  on  a  log  and  evidently 
resting  after  a  long  tramp.  Williams  at  once  accosted  him. 

"Where  do  you  hail  from,  soldier?" 

"Well,"  responded  the  soldier,  "that's  hard  to  say.  For 
four  years  gone  I've  been  in  the  Confederacy  and  belonged  to 
the  army.  But  now  I  feel  as  if  I  didn't  hail  from  anywhar'. 
However,  I  came  originally  from  Tennessee  so  I  may  say  I 
hail  from  thar;  but 

"  '  It  matters  little  now  Lo-ree-na.' " 

"Cheatham!"  said  Williams,  "hand  over  that  money." 
The  most  important  consideration  —  the  "burning  question," 
indeed  —  with  the  Confederate  cavalry  during  the  latter  part 
of  the  war  was  how  to  procure  horses.  The  peculiar  and  very 
active  work  it  was  required  to  perform  was  extremely  hard 
upon  horse-flesh  and  depleted  it  very  rapidly.  In  the  last  year 
of  the  war  the  South,  that  part  of  her  territory,  at  least,  which 


288  REMINISCENCES  OF 

was  still  held  by  the  Confederate  armies,  was  almost  entirely  des 
titute  of  horses.  The  lack  of  them  was  severely  felt  by  the  farm 
ers,  and  was  one  reason  why  food  was  so  scantily  produced  during 
that  period.  At  all  times  the  men  who  enlisted  in  the  Confeder 
ate  cavalry  regiments  had  furnished  their  own  mounts,  and  even 
had  the  government  been  willing  to  provide  them  it  would  have 
found  great  difficulty  in  doing  so;  it  was  barely  able,  indeed,  to 
procure  horses  in  sufficient  numbers  to  make  the  artillery  efficient. 

This  was  one  and  the  chief  reason  why  the  Confederate  cav 
alry  did  not,  in  the  campaigns  of  1864,  so  conspicuously  hold 
its  own  against  the  mounted  Federal  regiments  as  it  had  previ 
ously  done.  But  the  Southern  trooper,  although  he  received 
little  aid  in  any  respect  from  his  government  and  his  military 
superiors,  had  early  learned  to  take  pretty  good  care  of  himself, 
and  in  this  matter  of  prime  necessity  he  always  exhibited  marked 
ingenuity  and  industry.  If  a  horse  was  to  be  had  anywhere 
or  by  any  means,  he  usually  managed  to  get  it;  acting  very 
much  in  the  spirit  of  the  canny  Johnstons  of  Annandale,  that 
"Thou  shalt  want  ere  I  want."  The  "pressing,"  or  forcible 
taking  of  horses,  a  practice  indulged  in  very  extensively  by  the 
cavalry  of  both  sides,  was  strictly  inhibited  and  very  seldom 
attempted  by  the  Confederate  within  his  own  territory;  and 
this, together  with  the  constantly  increasing  scarcity  of  the  article 
in  the  South,  necessitated  many  incursions,  which  might  not 
have  been  otherwise  undertaken,  into  territory  occupied  by 
the  enemy.  It  is  related  that  on  one  occasion  when  Forrest 
entered  Paducah,  there  was  with  him  a  gallant  young  French 
man  who  had  quite  recently  emigrated  to  this  country  and 
settled  in  Paducah,  but  at  the  outbreak  of  the  war  had  joined 
a  cavalry  regiment  which  became  part  of  Forrest's  command. 
He  had  not,  at  the  time  of  which  I  speak,  acquired  much  Eng 
lish,  but  his  vocabulary,  while  limited,  was  exceedingly  clear 
and  to  the  point.  As  he  rode  along  one  of  the  streets  he  was 
recognized  and  accosted  by  a  former  acquaintance. 

"Hello,  Charlie!"  said  the  friend,  "what  did  you  fellows 
come  into  Kentucky  for  this  time?" 

"More  horse,"  responded  Charlie,  briefly  and  doubtless 
accurately. 

Central     Kentucky,     and     more    especially     the     Bluegrass 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  289 

region,  contained  the  pastures  where  the  men  of  Morgan's 
command  chiefly  sought  to  exchange  their  exhausted  horses  for 
fresh  stock,  and  sometimes,  if  it  was  a  very  pressing  case,  obtain 
new  mounts  without  the  ceremony  of  an  exchange.  Much 
of  this,  of  course,  occurred  upon  the  raids  and  expeditions  made 
into  the  state  for  strategic  purposes;  but  in  the  autumn  of 
'63  and  the  winter  of  '63  and  '64,  a  good  many  men  were  given 
furloughs  that  they  might  go  to  Kentucky  and  procure  horses. 
They  frequently  got  them  at  their  homes  and  from  their  rela 
tives  and  friends,  preferring  to  do  so  if  possible,  the  donors 
cheerfully  contributing  in  that  way  to  the  cause.  But  if  the 
animal  was  not  to  be  procured  in  that  way,  it  was  gotten  other 
wise.  I  cannot  remember  that  any  man  who  started  upon  such 
an  errand  and  returned,  came  back  without  a  horse. 

In  September,  1864,  Frank  Key  Morgan,  the  general's  youngest 
brother,  then  a  boy  of  sixteen,  accompanied  a  small  scouting 
party  into  Kentucky  and  pushed  on  to  the  vicinity  of  Lexington. 
There  Key  exchanged  his  almost  broken-down  steed  for  a  very 
fine  mare,  which  he  brought  back  to  south-westera  Virginia  and 
kept  until  very  nearly  the  end  of  the  war;  until  the  incident  I 
am  about  to  tell  occurred.  She  was  one  of  the  handsomest  animals 
I  ever  saw;  a  rich  blood,  bay  in  colour,  fully  sixteenhandsinheight 
and  beautifully  shaped,  having  all  the  points  of  the  thoroughbred; 
and  quite  probably  she  was,  but  as  that  matter  was  not  dis 
cussed  when  the  "swap"  was  made,  it  remained  one  of  doubt. 
In  two  or  three  months,  however,  it  developed  that  she  was 
with  foal,  and  in  the  following  April,  when,  after  General  Lee's 
surrender,  the  remnant  of  Morgan's  division  under  my  command 
was  marching  through  North  Carolina  with  the  view  of  reaching 
the  army  under  Gen.  Joseph  E.  Johnstone,  it  became  apparent 
that  the  date  of  her  accouchment  was  near  at  hand.  It  was 
therefore  necessary  that  another  exchange  should  be  effected. 

The  mare  was  really  such  a  fine  one  that  neither  her  owner 
nor  his  comrades  were  willing  to  exchange  her,  except  for  some 
thing  very  superior;  in  fact,  but  that  it  was  a  matter  of  abso 
lute  necessity,  they  would  not  have  been  willing  to  part  with 
her  at  all.  It  had  to  be  done,  however,  and  after  much  con 
sultation  it  was  determined  that  an  effort  should  be  made  to 
swap  her  for  a  magnificent  saddle  horse,  which  belonged  to 


290  REMINISCENCES  OF 

a  doctor  living  in  a  town  we  were  approaching.  The  fame 
of  this  horse  was  widespread,  and  every  one  felt  that  it  would 
be  a  credit  to  the  command  to  have  such  an  animal  in  the  ranks. 
Some  difficulty  was  anticipated  about  accomplishing  the  barter, 
for  the  doctor  was  in  active  practice  and  needed  a  good  horse 
for  his  work;  and,  moreover,  was  attached  to  and  proud  of 
his  saddler.  But  it  was  ascertained  that  he  was  not  only  an 
enthusiastic  horseman,  but  had  also  a  great  fondness  for  thor 
oughbreds  and  had  long  wished  to  obtain  some  extra  well-bred 
mares.  This  information  at  once  suggested  a  successful  pro 
gramme.  Two  men,  who  were  connoisseurs  in  horse-flesh  and 
lea/ned  in  pedigrees,  undertook  to  make  the  trade.  When 
we  reached  the  town  they  took  the  mare  to  be  inspected  by  the 
doctor,  and  stated  their  desire  to  exchange  her  for  his  horse. 
He  at  first  received  the  proposition  with  derision.  He  was 
gravely  assured,  however,  that  she  was  not  only  thoroughbred 
but  fashionably  bred,  by  the  Knight  of  St.  George  out  of  a 
Lexington  mare,  and  that  she  was  with  foal  by  West  Australian. 
Nothing,  said  the  parties  engineering  the  business,  could  have 
induced  them  to  consent  to  give  her  up,  but  the  fact  that  she 
could  be  carried  no  farther  just  then  and  the  command  was 
"in  a  hurry."  Her  appearance  seemed  to  corroborate  their 
declaration  regarding  her  pedigree,  and  this,  with  the  fact 
that  she  was  carrying  such  a  colt,  overcame  the  doctor's  re 
luctance  to  part  with  his  horse  and  he  consented  to  trade.  The 
transaction  occurred  late  in  the  afternoon,  and  what  subse 
quently  happened  well  illustrates  that  it  is  sometimes  excellent 
policy  for  a  cavalry  command  to  march  at  night.  Early  the 
next  morning  the  doctor  came  to  the  camp  with  blood  in  his 
eye  and  a  shot-gun  in  hand,  and  fiercely  demanded  that  the 
trade  should  be  rescinded  and  his  horse  returned.  During 
the  night  the  mare  had  given  birth  to  a  mule  colt. 

General  Morgan  had,  of  course,  at  different  periods  during 
the  war  quite  a  number  of  horses,  perhaps  eight  or  ten;  all 
very  fine  ones,  two  exceptionally  so.  These  were  "  Black  Bess," 
the  famous  mare  with  which  he  began  his  career,  and  another 
almost  as  spirited  and  hardy,  a  Glencoe  gelding,  which  the  men 
used  to  call  the  "high-crested  bay." 

I  think  that  Black  Bess  was  the  handsomest  and,  all  things 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  291 

considered,  the  finest  horse  for  saddle  or  cavalry  purposes  I 
ever  saw.  She  was  of  a  very  peculiar  and  very  rare  type. 
While  I  have  seen  other  horses  of  the  same  general  confor 
mation,  I  have  never  seen  one  that  closely  resembled  her.  She  was 
scant  fifteen  hands  in  height  and  impressed  one  at  first  glance 
as  being  quite  small,  but  closer  inspection  revealed  the  fact 
that  she  was  not  only  compactly  built,  but  had  a  frame  of 
unusual,  indeed  extraordinary,  power.  Her  pedigree,  as  It 
member  Mr.  Warren  Vila,  who  bred  her,  giving  it,  was  that" 
she  was  by  Drennon,  one  of  the  standard  saddle  horse  stallions 
of  Kentucky  —  and  one  of  the  most  famous. —  and  her  dam 
thoroughbred.  In  form  she  was  a  curious  but  most  beautiful 
blend  between  the  handsomer  specimens  of  the  Canadian  and 
the  thoroughbred.  She  had  the  typical  thoroughbred  points 
in  an  almost  exaggerated  degree,  especially  the  strong,  tilted 
loins,  thin,  sloping  withers,  short  back,  and  great  length  from 
brisket  to  whirlbone  with  also  great  depth  in  the  girth  and 
arched  back  rib.  Her  head  was  small  and  beautifully  shaped, 
and  there  was  an  expression  of  intelligence  in  her  eyes  almost 
human.  Her  neck  was  not  arched,  as  some  equestrian  theorists 
would  have,  perhaps,  preferred,  but  was  of  the  race-horse  pattern, 
extending  almost  straight  out  from  the  shoulders  and  beauti 
fully  moulded.  There  was  something  deer-like  in  her  shape, 
the  same  slender  grace,  yet  suggestion  of  marvellous  muscular 
strength  and  agility.  Her  colour  was  the  deepest,  glossiest 
black  imaginable. 

This  mare  was  given  Morgan  by  Mr.  Vila  when  the  former 
was  leaving  Lexington  with  his  company,  the  Lexington  Rifles, 
in  September,  1861.  Captain  Morgan  was  riding  her  when 
I  met  him  at  Munfordville  in  the  early  part  of  October,  and 
I  saw  her  every  day  thereafter  until  the  second  day  of  the  battle 
of  Shiloh.  I  saw  Morgan  ride  her  on  many  scouts  and  in  many 
skirmishes,  and  I  think  I  retain  not  only  a  vivid  but  an  accurate 
recollection  of  her.  One  of  her  peculiarities  which  I  can  well 
recall  was  the  crouching,  panther-like  attitude  she  would  as 
sume  when  under  fire.  Having  never  been  specially  trained 
for  the  saddle,  Black  Bess  had  none  of  the  artificial  saddle  gaits. 
A  wonderfully  smooth,  rapid  "flat-footed"  walk,  and  an  easy, 
graceful  canter  constituted  the  sum  of  her  accomplishments. 


292  REMINISCENCES  OF 

This  walk  was  so  rapid  that  the  other  horses  in  the  column, 
when  trying  to  keep  up  with  her,  were  always  forced  into  a  trot. 

Black  Bess  was  captured  on  May  6,  1862,  at  the  "Lebanon 
races,"  as  Morgan's  men  termed  the  first  defeat  which  their 
leader  sustained.  Dumont  attacked  him  at  Lebanon,  Ten 
nessee,  on  that  date  with  a  greatly  superior  force,  and  a  severe 
combat  ensued.  In  the  midst  of  the  fight  the  curb  of  her  bridle 
was  in  some  way  snapped,  and  the  mare,  always  excitable 
and  somewhat  difficult  to  control,  broke  into  a  clean  run  and 
rushed  down  the  pike  like  a  whirlwind.  Morgan,  even  with 
the  assistance  of  one  or  two  men  who  caught  hold  of  the  reins, 
was  for  some  time  unable  to  stop  her.  This  accident  prevented 
the  men  from  being  rallied,  and  the  Federals  pressed  the  retreat 
to  the  Cumberland  river,  which  some  of  the  fugitives  crossed, 
but  were  compelled  to  leave  their  horses,  Black  Bess  among 
them,  on  the  southern  side. 

Mr.  Vila,  who  wished  to  recover  the  mare  for  breeding  pur 
poses  —  indeed,  he  had  stipulated  that  she  should  be  returned 
to  him  if  Morgan  brought  her  back  safely — made  every 
effort,  after  the  war,  to  ascertain  what  had  become  of  her,  but 
without  success. 

The  bay  Glencoe  horse  was  given  Morgan  by  Capt.  Keene 
Richards  in  the  summer  of  1862.  He  was  an  altogether  differ 
ent  animal  from  Black  Bess,  although  nearly  as  fine  a  one. 
He  stood  sixteen  hands,  and  perhaps  half  an  inch  in  height, 
and  was  not  only  a  strong,  but  a  "big  horse."  He  had  the 
thoroughbred  points  in  nearly  as  marked  degree,  but  in  more 
robust  proportion,  and  in  gait  and  action  he  was  almost  her 
equal.  This  fellow  carried  his  head  high,  but  not  in  the  con 
strained  fashion  taught  by  "bitting"  or  tight  reining,  but  with 
a  natural,  easy  movement.  Big  as  he  was,  he  was  yet  extremely 
nimble  and  surefooted.  I  saw  Morgan  on  one  occasion,  when 
we  were  in  close  and  hot  pursuit  of  a  body  of  Federals,  ride  this 
horse  over  a  steep  "bluff"  or  eminence  along  a  small  water 
course,  which  was  at  least  thirty  feet  in  height  and  almost 
precipitous,  yet  he  went  down  it  as  surely  and  landed  at  the 
bottom  as  lightly  as  a  cat  could  have  done. 

Morgan  rode  this  horse  upon  the  Ohio  raid,  and  was  mounted 
on  him  at  the  time  that  he  was  so  nearly  over  the  river  —  after 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  293 

the  Disaster  at  Buffington  —  but  turned  back  because  he  found 
that  the  gunboats  had  approached  so  near  as  to  prevent  those 
who  were  following  him  from  crossing. 

Many  of  the  war  lyrics  which  were  familiar  to  the  people  of 
the  South  have  been  preserved,  and  will  doubtless  retain  a  place 
in  poetic  literature.  It  is  hard  for  the  present  generation  to 
understand  the  impression  which  some  of  them  produced  at  the 
time  when  they  were  generally  sung.  They  were  the  echoes  of  a 
highly-wrought  sentiment,  inspiring  utterance  and  action  equally 
intense,  and  were  received  as  the  natural  and  appropriate 
expression  of  the  popular  purpose  and  hope. 

Certain  representative  songs  were  heard  during  the  first  two 
years  of  the  war  in  every  Southern  household.  "Maryland,  My 
Maryland,"  "The  Red,  White,  and  Blue,"  "There's  Life  in  the 
t)ld  Land  Yet,"  "The  Bonnie  Blue  Flag,"  and  "Stonewall 
Jackson's  Way,"  like  "Dixie,"  were  to  a  certain  extent  indicia, 
if  not  exactly  tests,  of  loyalty  to  the  South.  They  were  parts 
of  the  profession  of  faith. 

But  as  the  long  conflict  dragged  on,  losing  much  of  its  early 
illusion  and  becoming  more  bitter  and  productive  of  sorrow, 
these  songs,  so  popular  at  a  period  of  more  sanguine  expectation, 
were  replaced  in  the  household  by  others  of  a  sadder  tenor,  and 
by  the  soldiers  were  tacitly  voted  rather  too  romantic  for  the 
camp  and  field.  Young  ladies  still  rendered  them  in  compli 
ment  and,  perhaps,  as  incentive,  to  military  admirers;  but  the 
youth  to  whom  battle  and  bivouac  had  become  second  nature, 
chanted  in  quite  different  strain  on  the  march  or  at  the  camp  fire. 
The  veterans  of  the  Confederacy  will  remember  how  unlike  to 
those  sung  in  the  beginning  of  the  struggle  were  the  songs  which 
became  favourites  with  them  after  it  had  developed  into  its  later 
phases  of  harsh,  close,  frequent  grapple  and  almost  constant  pri 
vation.  There  was  less  of  flourish,  but  more  of  meaning;  not 
so  much  bravado,  but  a  great  deal  more  point.  These  songs,  like 
the  talk  and  the  work  of  the  veterans,  were  imbued  with  the 
grim  earnestness  of  their  experience  and  of  the  situation;  when 
to  phrase  the  thought  in  the  vernacular  of  the  camp,  "a  man  was 
not  inclined  to  bite  off  more  than  he  could  chaw,  but  mighty  apt 
to  chaw  all  he  bit  off. " 

There  were  some  of  these  songs  which  breathed   a  fierce  spirit 


294  'REMINISCENCES  OF 

.f 

and  active  resentment  typical  of  the  time,  but  now  scarcely 
remembered;  but  the  greater  number  of  these  rugged  verses  were 
good-humoured;  quite  full,  it  is  true,  of  the  soldier's  disposition 
to  exalt  his  own  side  and  its  heroes,  but  generally  an  accurate 
transcript  in  rude  rhyme  of  current  events,  and  often  sappy  with 
the  homely  satire  of  the  camp,  which  stings  foe  and  friend  alike. 
Every  ex-Confederate  must  recall  one  such  song,  the  most 
popular  of  all,  which  was  raised  in  quaint,  jingling  tune  whenever 
and  wherever  a  half-dozen  ragged  rebels  were  gathered  together. 
The  rollicking  refrain,  captivating  in  its  very  absurdity,  ran 
as  follows: 

"  I'll  lay  ten  dollars  down, 

And  count  it  up  one  by  one. 
Oh,  show  me  the  man,  so  nigh  as  you  can, 
Who  struck  Billy  Patterson." 

Innumerable  verses  were  composed  and  sung  to  this  refrain. 
The  Army  of  Northern  Virginia,  the  Army  of  Tennessee,  and  the 
Army  of  the  trans-Mississippi  had  each  its  history  rudely  chron 
icled,  as  fast  as  made,  in  this  rough  minstrelsy.  No  one  man 
knew,  or  could  possibly  have  known,  the  whole  of  it,  for  new 
stanzas  were  constantly  added.  Every  corps  and  command 
contributed  some  commemorative  quatrain.  The  events  of 
campaigns  were  told  in  this  improvised  verse  as  rapidly  as  they 
occurred,  and  thereafter  were  sung  or  recited  by  the  rhapsodist 
who  professed  to  know  that  much  of  the  fragmentary  epic.  The 
wits  and  wags  of  the  camp  sought  to  make  caustic  criticism 
more  effective  by  embodying  in  it  lines  which  might  be  heard 
throughout  the  Confederacy. 

The  boundless,  invincible  confidence  of  his  army  in  General 
Lee  was  simply  but  perfectly  and,  to  one  who  shared  the  senti 
ment,  pathetically  expressed  in  language  of  cheer  and  assurance, 
assumed  to  have  been  spoken  by  the  great  commander  himself: 

"  Gen.  Lee,  he  said,  '  My  soldiers, 

You've  nothing  now  to  fear, 
For  Longstreet's  on  the  right  of  them 

And  Jackson's  in  their  rear.'  " 

And  also 

"You  Yanks  will  never  get  across 

The  Chickahominee, 
For  you-uns  fights  mit  Siegel, 
And  wee-uns  follow  Lee." 


GENERAL  BASIL    W.  DUKE  295 

The  manner  in  which  General  Jackson  habitually  obtained 
supplies  from  a  certain  Federal  commander  was  thus  recorded: 

"Old  Stonewall  says,  you  hungry  rebs, 

You'd  better  keep  in  ranks; 
For  I'm  goin'  to  draw  some  rations 
From  Major-general  Banks." 

The  dim,  half-conscious  recognition  of  the  abnormal  nature 
of  the  strife  —  of  the  ghastly  folly  of  civil  war  —  had  its 
utterance: 

"IVe  shot  at  many  a  Mexikin, 

And  many  an  Injun,  too, 
But  I  never  thought  I'd  have  to  shoot 
At  Yankee-doodle-do." 

A  battle  incident  was  thus  preserved: 

"The  Fourteenth  Louisiana, 

They  charged  'em  with  a  yell; 
They  bagged  them  'Bucktail  Rangers,' 

The  profanity  of  the  last  line,  if  reproduced,  would  shock 
every  well-regulated  mind,  and  all  feeling  of  admiration  for  the 
bravery  of  the  Fourteenth  Louisiana  would  be  lost  in  one  of 
compassion  for  the  dreadful  fate  of  the  "Bucktail  Rangers." 

The  explanation  of  how  a  soldier,  who  followed  Morgan  on 
his  raid  across  the  great  river,  became  a  prisoner  is  thoroughly 
clear: 

"Oh,  Morgan  crossed  the  river, 

And  I  went  across  with  him; 
I  was  captured  in  Ohio 
Because  I  couldn't  swim." 

So  also  is  the  candid  account  given  by  another  cavalry  man  of 
the  manner  in  which  he  procured  his  outfit: 

"You  see  these  boots  I'm  wearin'? 

I  won  'em  on  a  race; 
A  store  subscribed  this  suit  of  clothes, 
And  I  bought  my  hat  on  space." 

The  way  in  which  fond  hopes  were  sometimes  disappointed 
is  thus  described: 

"My  captain  went  a-scoutin* 

And  took  my  brother  Jim; 
He  went  to  catch  the  Yankees, 

But  the  Yankees  they  catched  him." 


296  GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE 

The  ladies,  of  course,  were  remembered,   and  one  minstrel 

declares  that: 

"Georgia  girls  are  handsome, 

And  Tennessee  girls  are  sweet; 
But  a  girl  in  old  Kentucky, 
Is  the  one  I  want  to  meet." 

Another,  after  a  glowing  tribute  to  his  sweetheart,  emphatically 
announces  that: 

"When  this  here  war  is  over, 

She's  a-goin'  to  be  my  wife; 
I'll  settle  down  in  Alabam' 
And  lead  a  quiet  life." 

No  matter  where  this  song  was  sung,  whether  on  the  Potomac 
or  the  Sabine,  the  Cumberland  or  the  Gulf,  nor  which  of  the 
multitude  of  its  stanzas  were  selected  for  rendition,  this  verse 
always  concluded  it: 

"But  now  my  song  is  ended, 

And  I  haven't  got  much  time; 
I'm  goin'  to  run  the  blockade 
To  see  that  girl  of  mine." 


CHAPTER  XV 

OF  ALL  the  officers  of  high  rank  who  served  in  the  Con 
federate  army,  the  least  kindly  recollection  is  retained 
of  Gen.  Braxton  Bragg.  The  conduct  of  more  than 
one  of  them  was,  at  sometime,  criticized.  But  none  other  was 
criticized  so  generally  and  so  bitterly.  Some  others  inspired  little 
affection  and  even  a  certain  portion  of  enmity;  but  he  was  widely 
and  intensely  disliked.  Many  general  officers,  of  less  force  and 
ability  than  he  had,  have  been  popular  with  their  soldiers  and 
those  immediately  under  them,  but  if  there  was  any  such  feeling 
for  him  it  utterly  lacked  manifestation,  and  the  very  reverse 
was  often  shown.  His  friends  and  admirers  were  few  in  number, 
and  not  much  in  evidence;  they  were  not  often  found  among  those 
who  were  required  to  obey  his  orders  and  execute  his  plans. 

And  yet  this  sentiment,  so  almost  universally  entertained  for 
him,  and  the  popular  mistrust  of  his  ability  as  an  officer,  was 
certainly,  in  large  measure,  unjust. 

Mr.  Davis  was  almost  alone  in  his  belief  in  General  Bragg's 
capacity  and  in  expecting  good  results  from  his  efforts.  But 
this  is  something  decidedly  in  his  favour. 

Mr.  Davis  was  accused  of  exhibiting  undue  favouritism  in 
some  instances  and  an  unreasonable  prejudice  in  others,  and  the 
charge  may  be  true  to  a  certain  extent;  the  best  and  wisest  men 
are  not  totally  free  from  that  fault,  but  he  undoubtedly  knew 
the  officers  of  the  old  army,  and  the  men  from  whom  he  was,  in 
a  manner,  compelled  to  select  his  military  chiefs,  better  than 
almost  any  one  else  knew  them;  and  while  he  occasionally  over 
rated  some,  and  perhaps  underrated  others  —  while  he  expected 
of  more  than  one  of  them  things  which  that  particular  man  was 
not  competent  to  do — it  will  be  difficult  to  indicate  any  one  whom 
he  placed  in  high  and  responsible  station,  who  had  not,  in  a 
marked  degree,  some  of  the  qualities  necessary  to  the  perform 
ance  of  its  duties.  But  Mr.  Davis  sometimes  overlooked  —  a 
mistake  easily  made  in  the  case  of  untried  men  —  the  lack  of 

297 


298  REMINISCENCES  OF 

other  qualities  even  more  essential  to  success.  He  made  this 
mistake  in  General  Bragg's .  case,  who,  almost  unrivalled  as  a 
subordinate  and  lieutenant,  could  never  have  become  a  great 
commander.  He  was  lacking  in  the  quick,  fertile,  and  accurate 
conception  and  broad  comprehension  which  makes  the  successful 
strategist;  he  was  not  an  able,  tactician.  So  far  from  inspiring, 
as  nearly  all  great  captains  have  done,  confidence  and  love  in 
those  who  followed  them,  General  Bragg  aroused  sentiments 
the  very  reverse.  His  temper  was  austere  and  even  morose, 
his  manner  was  repellant,  his  very  look  and  bearing  suggested 
in  others  distrust  of  his  judgment,  and  doubt  of  successful 
achievement. 

As  time  wears  on,  however,  we  often  discover  that  resentments, 
once  hotly  felt,  have  been  largely  without  proper  provocation, 
and  that  opinions  at  one  time  firmly  and  honestly  entertained 
have  been  induced  by  misconstruction.  Such,  I  am  sure,  will 
be  our  ultimate  estimate  of  General  Bragg's  character,  although 
that  of  his  capacity  as  a  soldier  may  remain  unchanged.  Several 
years  ago  I  expressed  my  opinion  of  General  Bragg  in  the  follow 
ing  language,  and  I  am  more  than  ever  convinced  that  it  is 
correct: 

It  is  generally  conceded  that  he  had  no  superior  as  a  corps  commander 
among  the  Confederate  officers  who  had  achieved  distinction  in  that 
capacity,  and  an  almost  universal  confidence  obtained  that  he  would  be  no 
less  successful  as  chief  of  an  army.  He  had  demonstrated  his  possession 
in  an  eminent  degree  of  the  qualities  necessary  for  the  work  of  organi 
zation,  discipline,  and  military  administration.  The  improvement  he  im 
mediately  wrought  in  these  respects  confirmed  the  opinion  induced  by  his 
labours  at  Pensacola;  for  out  of  the  forces  which  were  certainly  much  demor 
alized  at  Corinth,  he  had  very  soon  made  a  disciplined  army  at  Tupelo. 
His  capacity  as  strategist  and  tactician  —  as  field  captain  —  was  yet  to  be 
tested.  His  warmest  friends  will  doubtless  now  admit  that  he  did  not,  as 
army  leader  and  departmental  commander,  sustain  his  previous  fame  or 
the  expectations  which  had  been  formed  of  him.  But  the  criticism  which 
once  so  fiercely  challenged  his  right  to  be  estimated  as  a  great  soldier  in  any 
regard  is  now  silent  and  must  be  held  unjust.  The  severity,  which  was  for 
merly  believed  to  be  the  tendency  of  a  harsh  and  unsympathetic  nature  to 
express  itself  in  congenial  acts  of  tyranny,  is  now  better  understood.  We 
can  discern  that  the  strong,  imperious,  relentless  will  was  executing,  in  a 
way  which  seemed  to  it  best  and  most  necessary,  a  sincere,  unselfish,  patri 
otic  purpose.  If,  like  some  stern  commander  of  the  early  legionaries,  he  sought 
to  teach  the  discipline  which  makes  the  soldier  fear  his  officer  more  than  he 
does  the  enemy,  he  was  as  ready  as  the  Roman  to  devote  himself  to  "the 
gods  of  death  and  the  grave,"  if  it  might  win  victory  for  his  people. 


GENERAL  BASIL    W.  DUKE  299 

I  believe  that  such  will  ultimately  be  the  verdict  of  history 
and  the  opinion  of  the  Southern  people,  and  that  they  will  enroll 
his  name  among  those  which  they  wish  remembered  and  hon 
oured.  At  any  rate,  his  record  is  so  intimately  connected  with 
that  of  the  Army  of  Tennessee  and  with  the  conduct  of  the  war 
in  the  great  department  he  so  long  commanded,  that  the  his 
torians  of  the  Confederacy  must  give  it  ample  consideration. 

General  Bragg's  service  in  the  regular  army  of  the  United 
States  —  the  "old  army,"  as  it  was  frequently  termed  —  was 
extremely  creditable,  and  no  officer  stood  in  better  repute  for 
general  soldierly  conduct  with  his  comrades  and  superiors.  He 
was  graduated  from  West  Point  in  1837,  and  was  constantly 
employed  in  arduous  service  in  the  Seminole  War  and  against 
the  Indian  tribes  of  the  South-western  plains,  until  the  breaking 
out  of  the  Mexican  War.  He  earned  an  excellent,  indeed  bril 
liant,  reputation  in  Mexico;  serving  with  distinction  at  Fort 
Brown,  Monterey,  and  other  combats,  and  with  exceptional 
gallantry  and  efficiency  at  Buena  Vista,  and  was  twice  promoted, 
first  to  the  rank  of  major  and  then  to  that  of  lieutenant-colonel. 

After  the  Mexican  War  he  resigned  from  the  United  States 
army,  and  became  a  planter  in  Louisiana.  Immediately  upon  the 
establishment  of  the  provisional  government  of  the  Confederate 
states,  he  was  appointed  a  brigadier-general  in  the  Confederate 
army,  and  placed  in  command  at  Pensacola,  where  he  remained 
during  the  summer  and  fall  of  1861.  In  February,  1862,  he  was 
appointed  a  major-general  and  given  a  very  important  command, 
with  his  headquarters  at  Mobile.  It  was  at  Pensacola  and  Mobile 
that  he  first  evinced  his  extraordinary  capacity  as  an  organizer 
and  disciplinarian;  and  all  of  the  Confederate  armies  of  the  West 
owed  much  of  their  efficiency  to  his  work  in  these  respects.  To 
this  fact,  and  also  because  he  was  personally  cognizant  of  Bragg's 
conduct  in  Mexico,  is  doubtless  to  be  ascribed  Mr.  Davis's 
partiality  for  him. 

When,  after  the  disasters  at  Forts  Henry  and  Donelson, 
Gen.  Albert  Sidney  Johnston  concentrated  all  of  the  forces 
available  for  such  purpose  at  Corinth,  to  repel  the  threatened 
invasion  of  the  Southern  territory,  along  the  lines  of  the  Mobile 
£  Ohio  and  Memphis  &  Charlestown  railroads,  General  Bragg 
was  called  from  his  command  upon  the  gulf,  with  the  troops  he 


300  REMINISCENCES  OF 

had  been  training  with  such  care  and  skill.  In  the  organization 
of  the  Army  of  the  Mississippi,  composed  of  all  the  Confederate 
forces  assembled  at  Corinth,  he  was  appointed  to  the  command 
of  the  Second  Corps,  and  the  men  of  that  corps  were  conspicuous 
for  superior  equipment  and  soldierly  bearing.  It  formed  the 
second  line  of  battle  of  General  Johnston's  army,  when  moving 
to  the  attack  on  the  first  day  of  Shiloh,  and  on  that  day  Bragg 
commanded  the  Confederate  centre. 

So  thoroughly  well  did  all  the  officers  and  men  of  the  Army  of 
the  Mississippi  behave  in  that  battle  that  it  would  be  scarcely 
just  to  particularize  any  man  or  body  of  troops  as  having  been 
distinguished  more  than  the  others;  but  it  is  undoubtedly  true  that 
the  manner  in  which  General  Bragg  manoeuvred  and  fought 
his  corps,  and  his  genera'l  conduct  in  the  battle,  were  universally 
and  especially  commended.  So  also  his  appointment  soon 
afterward  as  full  general,  to  fill  the  vacancy  in  that  list  oc 
casioned  by  the  death  of  General  Johnston,  was  generally 
esteemed  the  fittest  selection  that  could  have  been  made. 

Confederate  reverses  were  numerous  and  came  rapidly  for 
some  time  after  Shiloh.  Island  No.  10,  on  the  Mississippi,  fell 
on  April  yth  the  same  date  as  the  second  day  of  the  battle. 
Fort  Pillow  was  evacuated  on  June  1st,  and  Memphis  on  June 
6th.  Corinth,  slowly  approached,  and  invested  by  one  hun 
dred  thousand  men  under  Halleck,  was  evacuated  on  May  3Oth. 
The  Army  of  the  Mississippi,  under  Beauregard,  retreated  to 
Tupelo,  a  point  on  the  Mobile  &  Ohio  railroad,  about  sixty  miles 
south  of  Corinth,  where  the  greater  part  of  it  remained  until, 
the  initial  steps  of  the  subsequent  movement  into  Kentucky  were 
taken. 

With  the  exception  of  east  Tennessee,  all  territory  north  of  the 
Tennessee  River,  and  even  portions  of  Mississippi  and  Alabama, 
were  temporarily  abandoned  to  Federal  occupation  in  the 
beginning  of  the  summer  of  1862. 

The  total  effective  strength  of  all  the  forces  under  the  im 
mediate  command  of  General  Beauregard  at  this  date  was  some 
thing  less  than  fifty  thousand,  including,  of  course,  troops  stationed 
at  other  points  than  Tupelo.  There  were  twelve  or  fifteen 
thousand  Confederate  troops  in  east  Tennessee,  under  command 
of  Gen.  E.  Kirby  Smith,  occupying  that  territory  from 


GENERAL  BASIL    W.  DUKE  301 

Chattanooga  to  Cumberland  Gap.  There  were  also  Confed 
erate  forces  at  Jackson,  Vicksburg,  and  other  points  in  Missis 
sippi,  and  in  Arkansas,  but  they  were  not  available  for  oper 
ations  to  be  attempted  by  the  Army  of  the  Mississippi. 

Besides  the  Federal  troops  already  mentioned  as  having  been, 
at  this  date,  with  Halleck  in  front  of  Corinth,  there  was  a  di 
vision  of  Buell's  army  about  seven  thousand  strong,  under 
Mitchell,  at  Huntsville,  Alabama  holding  the  Mobile  &  Ohio 
railroad  and  threatening  an  advance  on  Chattanooga.  Another 
division  of  Buell's  army  about  ten  thousand  strong,  under  George 
W.  Morgan,  was  in  front  of  Cumberland  Gap,  and  ten  or  twelve 
thousand  men  of  the  same  army  were  at  or  in  the  vicinity  of 
Nashville.  Eight  or  ten  thousand  more,  perhaps,  were  about 
the  same  time  or  soon  after  In  the  confines  of  east  Tennessee  and 
apparently  ready  to  move  toward  Knoxville. 

On  June  3d,  Halleck  began  such  disposition  —  dispersal, 
indeed  —  of  his  troops  as  suggested  an  intention  to  relinquish 
the  purpose  of  an  active  offensive  during  that  summer.  The 
divisions  of  Wallace  and  McClernand  were  sent  to  Bolivar,  on 
the  Mississippi  Central  railroad.  Those  of  Sherman  and  Hurlbut 
were  despatched  in  the  direction  of  Memphis.  Pope  was  or 
dered  to  suspend  the  pursuit  of  Beauregard  and  encamp  at 
Corinth.  Buell  was  instructed  to  press,  with  all  his  available  force, 
along  the  line  of  the  Memphis  &  Charleston  railroad  toward  Chat 
tanooga,  the  only  thing  in  the  nature  of  an  aggressive  movement 
that  was  attempted.  Such  was  the  situation  when,  about  the 
middle  of  June,  Beauregard  relinquished  command  of  the 
department,  and  Bragg  was  appointed  to  succeed  him. 

Soon  afterward  began  a  campaign  based  upon  one  of  the  grandest 
strategic  conceptions  of  the  war,  but  doomed  to  disappointment 
and  failure  because  of  the  timidity  and  vacillation  with  which, 
just  in  its  crisis  —  at  the  crucial  moment  —  it  was  conducted. 
Almost  immediately  upon  taking  command,  General  Bragg 
prepared  for  the  movement  into  Kentucky,  which,  had  it  been 
completely  successful,  would  have  done  more  than  aught  else  to 
achieve  final  victory  for  the  Confederacy,  and  which  would  have 
been  successful  if  it  had  been  prosecuted  to  its  conclusion  with 
the  same  boldness  and  vigour  with  which  it  was  begun.  The 
.unfortunate  result  of  this  campaign  did  serious  injury  to  Gen- 


302  REMINISCENCES  OF 

eral  Bragg's  reputation  and  prestige,  for  it  was  the  almost  uni 
versal  conviction  that  he  signally  failed  to  utilize  an  opportunity 
pregnant  with  far  reaching  and  valuable  consequences  to  the 
Confederacy. 

It  was  apparent  to  General  Bragg,  so  soon  as  he  took  command 
at  Tupelo,  that  a  policy  of  inaction  would  be  dangerous  and 
perhaps  speedily  fatal  to  his  army.  Not  only  was  aggressive 
action  of  some  sort  necessary  to  revive  the  spirits  of  the  troops 
and  of  the  people,  greatly  discouraged,  as  they  were,  by  the  recent 
disasters;  but  for  strategic  reasons,  also,  operations  upon  his 
part  were  requisite  to  prevent  the  enemy  —  when  Halleck  might 
become  aroused  from  his  lethargy  —  from  closing  the  net  around 
him,  and  using  his  superior  numbers  with  crushing  advantage. 

Three  alternatives  were  open  to  him,  if  he  chose  to  assume  the 
offensive.  He  might  attack  Corinth;  he  might  advance  against 
Grant  in  west  Tennessee;  or  he  might,  heavily  reinforcing  Kirby 
Smith,  move  with  the  forces  thus  combined  into  middle  Tennessee 
and  Kentucky.  The  chances  of  victory  in  a  pitched  battle 
seemed  very  nearly  equal,  should  he  adopt  either  of  these  courses, 
but  far  richer  results  were  possible  if  it  should  prove  successful 
from  the  one  last  mentioned.  Moreover,  although  apparently 
more  daring,  it  was  in  reality  the  safer  of  the  three.  It  would 
be  easier  for  Grant  to  reinforce  Corinth,  or  for  the  forces  there  to 
reinforce  Grant,  than  for  either  to  give  aid  to  Buell.  Indeed,  it 
would  be  well-nigh  impossible  for  Bragg  to  move  against  Grant 
without  exposing  his  rear  or  flank  to  attack  from  the  troops 
stationed  at  Corinth.  It  would  be  feasible  for  him  —  as  he 
concluded  to  do  —  to  engage  the  attention  of  the  commander 
at  Corinth,  and  prevent  his  interfering  with  the  movement  into 
Tennessee  and  Kentucky  or  reinforcing  Buell,  by  having  Generals 
Price  and  Van  Dorn,  whom  he  left  at  Tupelo  and  the  vicinity 
with  some  twenty  thousand  men,  inauguarate  an  active  offensive. 
They  did  so  with  success,  fighting  the  battles  of  luka  and  Corinth 
and  arresting  any  attempt  to  interfere  with  Bragg's  plan  of 
campaign. 

The  immediate  effect  of  the  movement  which  General  Bragg 
decided  upon  was  to  protect  east  Tennessee  from  the  threatened 
invasion  and  occupation  by  Buell,  which  would  have  cut  in  twain 
the  eastern  and  more  important  part  of  the  Confederate  territory. 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  303 

rendering  communication  between  Richmond  and  the  Army  of 
Northern  Virginia  with  the  armies  further  west  very  difficult 
if  not  impossible;  as  was  abundantly  shown  by  the  disastrous 
effect  so  produced  at  a  later  period  of  the  war.  But  it  promised 
also  the  recovery  of  the  greater  and  more  fertile  part  of  Ten 
nessee,  and  the  possession  of  the  whole  or  nearly  the  whole  of  the 
territory  of  Kentucky.  From  these  regions  an  inexhaustible 
store  of  food  supplies  and  much  other  valuable  material  would 
be  furnished  the  Confederacy,  and  thousands  of  recruits  could 
be  obtained  for  the  Confederate  armies.  It  would  undoubtedly 
have  also  stimulated  enlistment  in  the  states  farther  south;  for 
many  young  men  who  had  resisted  the  incentives  which  first 
urged  the  youth  of  the  South  to  enter  the  ranks,  and  who  sub 
sequently  eluded  the  grasp  of  the  conscription,  might  have  been 
tempted  into  the  Confederate  service  by  successes  so  brilliant 
and  the  hope  of  a  speedy  termination  of  the  war. 

I  have  always  believed  that  the  complete  success  of  this  cam 
paign  would  have  had  greater  eifect  in  inducing  the  people  of 
the  North  to  abandon  the  effort  to  coerce  the  South  into  submis- 
mission,  than  Confederate  victory,  however  decisive,  at  any 
other  period  of  the  struggle  could  have  accomplished.  At 
an  earlier  date  the  North  scarcely  believed  that  the  South  was 
really  in  earnest.  At  a  later  period  —  when  Gettysburg  was 
fought  —  the  time  had  gone  by  when  courage  or  fortune  could 
have  greatly  availed  the  Confederacy.  The  people  of  the  North 
had  then  ascertained  the  extent  of  their  own  resources  and  had 
accurately  gauged  those  of  their  opponents.  They  had  become 
convinced  that  persistent,  relentless  effort  woul.d  ultimately  break 
down  the  resistance  of  adversaries,  who,  lacking  nothing  in  skill 
and  bravery,  were  utterly  destitute  of  the  means  and  materials 
necessary  to  sustain  prolonged  and  continuous  warfare. 

But  at  the  date  of  which  I  write  such  perfect  confidence  of 
ultimate  success  —  born  of  a  thorough  knowledge  of  the  sit 
uation  —  did  not  yet  obtain  in  the  North.  The  South,  rallying 
after  her  reverses  in  the  spring  of  1862,  seemed  more  determined 
and  defiant  than  before.  The  Confederate  host,  which  had 
been  driven  southward,  had  turned  and  pressed  forward,  carry 
ing  its  banners  back  again  into  Tennessee  and  Kentucky.  At 
the  same  time  the  Army  of  Northern  Virginia,  having  crippled 


3o4  REMINISCENCES  OF 

the  forces  opposed  to  it  in  Virginia  in  a  series  of  victorious  bat 
tles,  was  marching  into  Maryland.  The  North  still  depended 
upon  volunteering  to  fill  her  armies.  The  draft  had  not  yet  been 
suggested,  and  no  one  had  thought  of  subsidizing  the  recruiting 
markets  of  Europe  to  replete  the  Federal  ranks.  If  at  that  date, 
which  may  justly  be  deemed  a  crisis,  the  army  under  Bragg  had 
won  a  great  victory  that  would  have  placed  Tennessee  and  Ken 
tucky  firmly  in  Confederate  grasp;  if  the  Confederate  flag  had 
been  seen  triumphant  along  the  Potomac  and  Ohio  both,  and 
Northern  territory  had  been  threatened  with  invasion  in  the 
East  and  West  alike,  have  we  not  reason  to  believe  that  Northern 
sentiment  might  have  demanded  peace? 

I  shall  endeavour  to  show,  without  in  the  least  disparaging 
the  fine  army  commanded  by  Buell,  or  overrating  the  prowess 
of  the  troops  commanded  by  Bragg,  that  the  latter  general  had 
more  than  one  opportunity,  while  in  Kentucky,  to  deliver  battle 
which  should  almost  certainly  have  resulted  in  victory. 

On  June  27th,  General  Bragg  despatched  McCown's  division 
to  Chattanooga,  as  the  advance  guard  of  the  force  he  intended 
to  employ  in  his  contemplated  movement  into  Tennessee  and 
Kentucky.  The  brigades  of  Cleburne  and  Preston  Smith  fol 
lowed  a  little  later.  By  the  middle  of  August  some  twenty-five 
thousand  infantry  of  the  army,  previously  around  Tupelo,  had 
been  transferred  by  rail  via  Mobile  to  Chattanooga,  and  crossing 
the  Tennessee  River  a  few  days  thereafter,  General  Bragg  began 
his  northward  march  on  August  28th,  moving  across  Waldron's 
Ridge  toward  middle  Tennessee.  Somewhat  earlier  than  this 
date  Kirby  Smith,  in  pursuance  of  his  part  of  the  programme, 
commenced  his  advance  through  Big  Creek  Gap  and  Roger's 
Gap  into  Kentucky.  He  left  Stevenson  with  eight  thousand 
men  in  front  of  Cumberland  Gap,  to  observe  the  enemy  posted 
there.  Stevenson  was  instructed  —  so  soon  as  the  Gap  should  be 
evacuated  and  his  path  was  clear  —  to  follow  General  Smith  and 
join  him  at  Lexington.  In  his  own  column  General  Smith 
had  some  ten  thousand  infantry  and  Scott's  brigade  of 
cavalry. 

During  July  and  August,  Forrest  and  Morgan  had  been  actively 
engaged  in  the  territory  which  was  now  to  be  made  the  theatre 
of  far  more  extensive  military  operations.  Morgan  had  made 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  305 

a  raid  into  central  Kentucky  as  far  north  as  Cynthiana,  within 
fifty  miles  of  Cincinnati,  capturing  nearly  all  of  the  garrisons 
and  depots  of  supplies  in  that  region.  At  the  same  time  Forrest 
had  entered  middle  Tennessee  and  performed  similar  work 
there.  Both  then  settled  down  to  the  task  which  had  been  es 
pecially  assigned  them,  which  was  to  harass  Buell  in  every  con 
ceivable  way,  and  retard  and  if  possible  hinder  his  advance  upon 
either  Knoxville  or  Chattanooga.  Morgan,  returning  from  Ken 
tucky,  established  himself  on  the  north  of  the  Cumberland  in  the 
country  about  Gallatin  and  Hartsville,  and  began  a  systematic 
interruption  of  Buell's  communications  with  Louisville.  For 
rest  was  equally  active  on  the  southern  side  of  the  river,  break 
ing  all  rail  connection  south  and  east  of  Nashville,  and  making 
foraging  and  the  collection  of  supplies  by  the  Federals  in  all 
the  adjacent  country  both  difficult  and  hazardous.  Accurate 
and  prompt  information  of  Buell's  movements  and  of  the  dis 
position  of  his  troops  was  also  furnished  by  these  officers  to  their 
own  commanders,  while  their  activity  in  large  measure  masked 
the  impending  Confederate  aggressive  operations.  On  August 
29th,  Morgan,  having  received  orders  to  that  effect,  marched  to 
Lexington,  Kentucky,  which  point  he  reached  on  September 
4th.  Forrest  remained  in  Tennessee. 

General  Smith  pressed  on  over  very  difficult  roads  through  the 
mountains  of  south-eastern  Kentucky  and  reached  Richmond  on 
August  3Oth.  Here  all  of  the  Federal  troops  in  central  Ken 
tucky  immediately  available  for  defense  had  been  collected  under 
Generals  Manson  and  Nelson.  General  Manson  states  that  this 
force  was  not  more  than  six  thousand  five  hundred  strong.  Gen 
eral  Smith  had  marched  so  rapidly,  and  his  men  were  so  inade 
quately  supplied  that  he  had  scarcely  six  thousand  when  he  came 
in  the  presence  of  the  enemy.  He  attacked  without  hesitation. 
The  fight  was  waged  hotly  upon  both  sides,  and  resulted  in  a 
complete  Confederate  victory.  More  than  a  thousand  of  the 
Federals  were  killed  and  wounded,  and  four  thousand  three 
hundred  and  three  made  prisoners.  General  Manson  was  cap 
tured  and  Nelson  wounded,  nine  pieces  of  artillery  taken,  and 
the  Federal  command  utterly  destroyed.  The  Confederate 
loss  in  killed  and  wounded  was  comparatively  small. 

General  Smith  instantly  pressed  on  to  Lexington,  reaching  that 


3o6  REMINISCENCES  OF 

place  on  September  2d,  and  in  a  day  or  two  had  his  entire 
command  there. 

Buell  was,  of  course,  in  doubt  at  first  of  Bragg's  purpose,  and 
naturally  supposed  that  he  might  be  moving  on  Nashville.  Some 
writers  who  have  discussed  this  campaign  seem  to  think  that 
General  Bragg  was  undecided  whether  to  deliver  battle  in  the 
vicinity  of  Nashville  or  to  March  into  Kentucky.  There  can 
be  no  question  that  he  had  determined  on  the  latter  policy  at  the 
incipiency  of  the  campaign  and  never  wavered  in  such  purpose. 
Success  in  Kentucky  would  have  compelled  the  evacuation  of 
middle  Tennessee  by  the  Federal  forces,  and  the  subsequent 
Confederate  possession  of  Nashville  without  a  struggle.  The 
plan  was  clearly  and  wisely  conceived,  and  contained  no  element 
of  uncertainty.  Had  its  later  conduct  been  as  prompt  and  vig 
orous  as  was  its  initiative,  the  results  would  have  obviated  all 
necessity  of  explanation. 

Buell  met  the  situation  with  alacrity  and  resolution,  and  skil 
fully  disposed  his  army  to  deal  with  either  emergency.  Collect 
ing  the  rolling  stock  of  the  railroads  where  it  could  be  best  used, 
whether  he  should  have  to  fight  Bragg  in  Tennessee  or  follow  him 
into  Kentucky,  and  getting  his  transportation  ready  for  either 
alternative,  he  rapidly  concentrated  the  bulk  of  his  army  at 
Murfreesboro,  between  September  2d  and  5th.  This  point 
was  judiciously  selected.  It  was  one  where  Buell  could  earliest 
discover  Bragg's  intention  —  if  the  latter  meant  to  advaace  on 
Nashville  —  and  fight  him  to  the  best  advantage  as  he  emerged 
from  the  mountains;  or  whence  he  could  quickly  and  closely  press 
him,  if  he  continued  his  march  northward. 

Bragg  pushed  on,  in  pursuance  of  his  original  plan,  through 
the  Sequatchie  Valley  and  across  the  plateau  about  Sparta. 
He  made  no  demonstration  in  the  direction  where  Buell  was 
waiting  to  give  him  battle,  but,  heading  his  long  column  for  the 
Cumberland,  crossed  it  at  the  fords  by  which  the  Confederate 
cavalry  were  wont  to  pass  when  raiding  into  Kentucky,  and  on 
September  I2th  reached  Glasgow.  Buell  receiving  early  infor 
mation  of  his  route,  started,  without  hesitation  and  with  all 
the  speed  he  could  make,  for  the  same  region.  His  first  objective 
was  Bowling  Green,  only  a  short  distance  from  Glasgow.  It 
was  a  large  depot  of  supplies,  and  the  only  one  he  had  between 


GENERAL  BASIL    W.  DUKE  307 

Louisville  and  Nashville,  and  it  was  of  extreme  importance 
that  he  should  reach  it  before  Bragg  could  capture  it.  By  expe 
ditious  marching  he  succeeded  in  doing  so. 

Chalmers,  commanding  the  advance  brigade  of  General  Bragg's 
army,  had  been  sent  on  to  take  position  at  Cave  City  on  the 
Louisville  &  Nashville  railroad,  north  of  Bowling  Green,  to  pre 
vent  communication  between  Louisville  and  that  point.  Chal 
mers,  whose  brigade  was  only  sixteen  hundred  strong,  conceived 
the  idea,  without  orders,  of  attacking  the  garrison  at  Munfords- 
ville  on  the  north  bank  of  the  Green  River  at  the  point  where 
the  railroad  crosses  it.  The  position  was  one  of  considerable 
natural  strength  and  was  well,  although  not  elaborately,  fortified. 
The  garrison,  however  numbered  about  four  thousand  men, 
nearly  three  times  as  strong  as  the  attacking  force;  and  Chalmers, 
after  a  sharp  and  gallant  action,  was  repulsed  with  smart  loss. 
General  Bragg  moved  his  entire  army  to  Munfordsville,  envel 
oped  the  place  and  compelled  the  surrender  of  the  garrison. 
He  now  had  his -army  between  Buell  and  Louisville,  held  a 
formidable  defensive  position,  and  was  in  possession  of  the 
railroad  and  the  line  of  the  Green  River. 

It  is  almost  impossible  to  reconcile  General  Bragg's  conduct 
after  he  had  taken  Munfordsville  with  the  idea  and  purpose  on 
which,  it  has  been  claimed  and  supposed,  that  his  movement  into 
Kentucky  was  predicated.  If  it  was  his  intention,  when  he 
moved  the  greater  part  of  his  army  from  Corinth  to  Chattanooga, 
to  simply  relieve  east  Tennessee  from  the  danger  of  Federal 
occupation,  and  compel  BuelFs  army  to  evacuate  middle  Ten 
nessee,  without  thought  of  any  more  decisive  gain  or  success, 
we  can  understand  why  he  marched  so  far  north  as  Glasgow  and 
then  declined  to  give  battle.  But  if  that  was  his  object  it  is 
difficult  to  understand  why,  when  Buell  marched  toward  Louis 
ville,  he  did  not  immediately  turn  southward,  move  directly  on 
Nashville,  and,  capturing  that  place,  establish  his  army  in  middle 
Tennessee,  occupying  the  whole  of  that  territory  with  less  of 
loss  and  labour  than  it  cost  him  to  regain  only  a  part  of  it  two 
months  later. 

.  I  believe  it  was  General  Bragg's  original  plan  and  hope  to 
force  Buell  to  give  battle  somewhere  in  Kentucky,  between 
Bowling  Green  and  Louisville,  utterly  to  defeat  him,  and  to 


308  REMINISCENCES  OF 

recover  and  firmly  hold  all  of  central  and  middle  Kentucky 
up  to  the  Ohio  River.  There  can  be  no  doubt  that  such  was  Kirby 
Smith's  estimate  of  the  results  to  be  obtained  from  this  campaign. 

Why  then,  was  a  plan  so  sagaciously  conceived  and  boldly 
and  energetically  inaugurated,  apparently  so  completely  aban 
doned?  It  is  mild  criticism  to  declare  that  it  was  marred  by 
incertitude,  vacillation,  and  timidity.  General  Bragg  acted  like 
one  who  had  clearly  foreseen  and  provided  for  what  might  happen 
up  to  the  time  when  the  serious  and  hazardous  work  of  the  cam 
paign  would  begin,  giving  no  thought  to  what  might  occur  or  what 
he  might  be  required  to  do  afterward.  Strange  as  it  may  seem, 
1  think  this  is  the  true  explanation  of  his  conduct  during  that 
period  when  so  much  was  at  stake,  between  September  iyth 
and  October  I2th;  and  the  reason  for  it  is  to  be  found  in  his  men 
tal  and  moral  constitution.  He  could  formulate  the  inception 
of  an  enterprise,  but  seemed  incapable  of  thinking  out  a  plan 
consistently  to  its  conclusion.  Exhibiting  undaunted  courage 
as  a  subordinate,  he  invariably  evinced  a  lack  of  resolution  and 
decision  in  emergencies  after  he  was  given  independent  command. 

In  charging  that  the  real  object  of  General  Bragg's  expedition 
into  Kentucky  was  defeated  by  a  lack  of  forecast  upon  his  part, 
for  which  there  can  be  no  excuse,  I  am  not  unmindful  of  that 
element  of  chance  and  uncertainty  which  frequently  determines, 
in  great  measure,  the  result  of  military  operations.  There  are 
certain  questions  in  the  problems  of  warfare  which  can  never  be 
calculated  with  perfect  accuracy,  or  positively  ascertained  in 
advance.  No  matter  how  sagacious,  careful  and  skilful  a 
captain  may  be,  he  must  always  be  in  doubt,  to  a  certain  extent, 
as  to  what  his  adversary  will  do,  or  how  much  that  adversary 
may  accomplish;  nor  can  he  always  certainly  foresee  or  avoid 
some  accident  which  may  derange  his  own  plans  or  hinder  his 
movements. 

But  General  Bragg  had  no  difficulties  of  this  nature  to  contend 
with,  and  the  failure  for  which  he  has  been  censured  was  lack  of 
provision  for  contingencies  which  he  must  have  anticipated, 
and,  indeed,  knew  would  happen.  Moreover,  there  are  some 
times  circumstances  under  which  the  general  who  assumes  and 
is  able  to  retain  the  initiative  can  control  the  situation;  if  he  can 
"  keep  the  lead, "  he  can  win  the  game.  This  was  General  Bragg's 


GENERAL  BASIL    W.  DUKE  309 

attitude  when  he  had  gotten  between  Buell  and  Louisville,  and 
could  have  called  a  considerable  part  of  Kirby  Smith's  forces 
to  his  assistance,  whenever  he  chose  to  fight. 

General  Bragg  not  only  expected  that  Buell  would  follow  him 
into  Kentucky,  but  knew  that  he  would  be  forced  to  do  so, 
with  all  possible  speed.  He  had  been  informed  of  the  disposition 
and  possible  strength  of  the  Federal  forces  in  middle  Tennessee 
by  both  Morgan  and  Forrest.  Just  before  Morgan  started  to 
Lexington  he  had  notified  the  officer  in  command  at  Chattanooga, 
who  of  course  transmitted  the  information  to  General  Bragg,  that 
Buell  was  beginning  his  concentration  at  Murfreesboro.  Bragg's 
movement,  whether  merely  intended  to  clear  Alabama  and 
Tennessee  of  the  enemy,  or  having  a  more  important  purpose, 
was  based  upon  the  supposition  that  Buell  would  be  drawn  as 
far  north,  perhaps,  as  Louisville.  But  if  the  ultimate  object  of 
the  campaign  was  not  only  to  compel  the  evacuation  by  the 
Federal  armies  of  Alabama  and  Tennessee,  but  to  obtain  posses 
sion  of  Kentucky — and  that  such  was  its  object  is  clearly  dis 
closed,  I  think,  by  the  correspondence  between  Generals  Bragg 
and  Smith  of  June  and  July,  1862  —  then  General  Bragg  not 
only  wished  and  believed  that  Buell  would  follow  him,  but 
should  have  sought  an  opportunity  to  fight  and  crush  him  with 
the  least  possible  delay.  Under  such  conditions  and  with  the 
prize  contended  for,  prompt  battle  and  decisive  victory  should 
have  been  sought  at  all  hazards.  Moreover,  if  General  Bragg 
did  not  mean  to  fight  to  hold  Kentucky,  he  should  not  have  gone 
to  Munfordsville,  but  should  have  remained  in  position  to  fall 
back  rapidly  on  Nashville.  After  the  capture  of  Munfordsville 
and  the  establishment  of  his  army  north  of  the  Green  River,  a 
successful  battle  with  Buell  had  become  necessary  to  the  accom 
plishment  of  either  plan;  and  if  he  meant  to  fight  he  should 
have  sought  battle  so  soon  as  he  was  able  to  concentrate  all  of 
the  troops  available,  for  he  could  hope  for  no  aid  save  from  Kirby 
Smith;  while  Buell,  if  permitted  to  reach  Louisville,  might  be 
reinforced  to  an  indefinite  extent. 

Now,  was  General  Bragg  sufficiently  in  control  of  the  military 
situation,  after  his  success  at  Munfordsville,  to  have  forced 
Buell  to  battle  with  the  chances  of  victory  decidedly  in  his  own 
favour?  I  think  it  can  be  shown  that  he  was. 


3io  REMINISCENCES  OF 

xs 

General  Bragg  states  in  his  report  of  this  campaign,  dated  May 
20,  1863,  that  he  was  able  at  no  time  "to  put  more  than  forty 
thousand  men  of  all  arms,  and  in  all  places,  in  battle."  He  cer 
tainly  did  not  mean  that  there  was  in  his  own  army  that  number; 
but  if  he  meant  to  say  that  the  troops  under  his  immediate  com 
mand  aggregated,  with  those  under  Kirby  Smith,  only  that  num 
ber,  there  is  every  reason  to  believe  that  he  greatly  understated 
the  total.  In  the  two  corps,  of  two  divisions  each,  of  the  Army  of 
Mississippi,  which  marched  writh  General  Bragg  from  Chatta 
nooga,  there  were,  according  to  the  field  returns  of  August  27th, 
1862,  an  effective  strength  of  23,938  infantry,  and  a  total  effect 
ive  of  27,320  men.  The  Federal  writers  who  have  discussed  this 
campaign  estimate  his  force  at  a  much  greater  figure  than  this. 
None  of  the  Confederate  writers  from  whom  I  have  seen  any 
estimate  of  it  computes  it  at  less. 

Buell  had  stationed  at  different  points  in  middle  Tennessee 
and  Alabama,  in  the  early  part  of  August,  perhaps  thirty  thous 
and  men.  General  Gilbert  estimates  his  total  number  at  the 
date  of  concentration  at  Murfreesboro  at  thirty  thousand.  He 
left  garrisons  at  Nashville  and  in  the  immediate  vicinity  of  not 
less  than  eight  thousand.  He  received  no  reinforcements  from 
any  quarter  until  he  reached  Louisville  on  September  25th,  and 
could  have  gotten  none.  We  are  justified,  therefore,  in  supposing 
that  on  September  I7th,  Bragg,  at  Munfordsville,  with  twenty- 
seven  thousand  men,  was  confronting  Buell  who  was  advancing 
with  not  more  than  thirty  thousand,  most  probably  a  less 
number. 

We  are  better  informed  in  regard  to  the  strength  of  General 
Smith's  army  —  who,  it  must  be  remembered,  had  been  rein 
forced  by  a  division  of  the  Army  of  Mississippi,  McCown's.  In 
his  letter  to  General  Bragg,  of  July  24,  1863,  Smith  states  that 
the  effective  strength  of  Stevenson's  division  was  nine  thousand 
men ;  that  of  Heth,  six  thousand ;  that  of  McCown,  three  thousand. 
He  subsequently  stated  that  Marshall,  who  reported  to  him  in 
Kentucky,  had  three  thousand  men.  Marshall  himself  in  his 
report  to  the  Hon.  George  W.  Randolph,  dated  August  19, 
1862,  just  as  he  was  starting  to  join  General  Smith,  states  that 
with  one  small  battalion  which  was  about  to  join  him,  he  would 
have  five  thousand  men. 


GENERAL  BASIL    W.  DUKE  311 

General  Smith  as  I  have  said,  reached  Lexington,  September 
2d.  Within  two  or  three  days  after,  all  of  the  troops  at  his 
disposal,  with  the  exception  of  those  under  Stevenson  and 
Marshall,  were  also  there.  General  Bragg  reached  Glasgow 
September  I2th.  He  had  received  information  of  General  Smith's 
victory  at  Richmond  and  must  have  been  thoroughly  apprised 
of  the  situation.  He  knew  that  central  and  eastern  Kentucky 
were  denuded  of  Federal  troops,  except  those  at  Cumberland  Gap, 
under  George  W.  Morgan,  who  would  be  forced  to  retreat  and  of 
whom  Stevenson  could  take  care.  A  swift  message  sent  to  Gen 
eral  Smith  on  September  I2th  could  have  brought  him  with  at 
least  ten  thousand  men,  to  effect  a  junction  with  General  Bragg's 
column  at  Munfordsville,  or  in  that  vicinity,  before  Buell  could 
have  forced  a  collision.  Bragg,  holding  the  line  of  the  Green 
River,  could  have  delayed  Buell's  crossing  or  his  further  progress 
until  these  troops  came.  Then  he  would  have  been  able  to  deliver 
battle  with  nearly  forty  thousand  men  against  not  more  than  thirty 
thousand.  The  troops  of  the  Army  of  Ohio  were  splendid  soldiers, 
but  they  would  have  been  confronted  by  men  as  seasoned  and 
well  disciplined  as  themselves.  Bragg  would  have  been  not  only 
numerically  superior,  but  would  have  borne  down  on  his  adver 
sary  with  the  veterans  of  Shiloh  and  the  combats  around  Corinth, 
flushed  with  recent  successes  at  Richmond  and  Munfords 
ville,  and  inspired  with  a  hope  of  success  as  ardent  and  more 
rational  than  they  had  ever  felt  before. 

The  distance  General  Smith  would  have  been  required  to  march 
in  order  to  join  Bragg  in  time  for  this  battle  would  not  have  been 
more  than  one  hundred  and  thirty  miles.  The  roads  were  ex 
cellent;  no  obstruction  would  have  been  offered  him,  and  he  could 
easily  have  traversed  it  in  six  or  seven  days.  It  would  not  have 
been  necessary  for  Bragg  to  go  after  Buell  to  compel  battle. 
It  was  vitally  necessary  for  Buell  to  get  to  Louisville.  He 
would,  at  any  hazard,  have  essayed  to  do  so,  and  Bragg  could 
have  determined  the  time  and  place  of  their  encounter. 

Several  explanations  of  General  Bragg's  failure  to  seek  battle 
at  this  date  and  under  the  conditions  described  have  been  fur 
nished  by  his  apologists,  but  none  of  them  seems  adequate. 

No  one  has  succeeded  in  showing  that  he  could  not  have  re 
ceived  timely  reinforcement  from  General  Smith,  and  in  such 


3i2  REMINISCENCES  OF 

force  as  to  assure  him  a  decided  numerical  superiority.  It  is 
true  that  Smith,  immediately  upon  his  arrival  at  Lexington,  had 
despatched  Heth's  division  to  threaten  Cincinnati;  but  it  was 
soon  recalled,  and,  indeed,  need  not  have  been  sent.  All  that 
it  was  necessary  for  it  to  do,  and  all  that  it  attempted,  could  have 
been  just  as  well  accomplished  without  the  employment  of  so 
large  a  force  and  one  which  could  have  rendered  far  more  valuable 
service  if  sent  to  Bragg. 

I  was  ordered  to  relieve  Heth  and  observe  the  enemy  in  that 
quarter,  and  did  so  with  six  hundred  of  Morgan's  cavalry.  I  was 
engaged  in  this  work  for  ten  or  twelve  days,  frequently  coming 
in  collision  with  the  Federal  troops  which  moved  out  from  Cin 
cinnati,  and  found  that  the  force  under  my  command  was  quite 
sufficient  to  do  all  that  was  required. 

It  would  have  been  a  strategic  blunder,  at  that  time,  to  have 
made  the  capture  of  Cincinnati  one  of  the  principal  objects  of 
the  campaign,  or  to  have  involved  any  considerable  number  of 
troops  in  operation  north  of  the  Ohio.  It  was  of  some  impor 
tance  so  to  threaten  that  city  as  to  induce,  for  its  defence,  a 
diversion  of  a  certain  number  of  the  troops  which  were  being 
collected  to  reinforce  Buell.  But  that  could  have  been  effected, 
as  I  have  said,  without  employing  a  force  anything  like  so  strong 
as  that  under  Heth,  or,  indeed,  any  of  the  Confederate  infantry. 
Cincinnati  so  thoroughly  shared  the  general  consternation  pre 
vailing  along  the  northern  bank  of  the  Ohio  that  her  people  could 
have  been  kept  in  a  proper  state  of  apprehension  by  a  squad  of 
cavalry. 

Nor  was  Cincinnati  in  any  sense  a  strategic  point,  or  one  whose 
acquisition  then  would  have  been  of  any  value.  On  the  con 
trary,  its  capture  and  occupation  would  have  been  a  misdirected 
effort  and  a  waste  of  opportunity.  So  long  as  Buell's  army  was 
unbeaten  and  intact,  no  Confederate  gain  would  have  been 
secure  or  permanent;  and  such  separation  of  the  Confederate 
forces  then  in  Kentucky  would  not  only  have  seriously 
endangered  their  communications,  but  have  almost  certainly 
resulted  in  their  being  defeated  in  detail. 

But  the  capture  of  Cincinnati  was  of  no  great  moment  at  any 
time.  When  this  campaign  was  in  progress,  and  until  several 
years  after  the  termination  of  the  struggle,  only  one  railroad 


GENERAL  BASIL   W.  DUKE  313 

ran  southward  from  that  city,  and  it  extended  no  farther  than 
Lexington,  Kentucky.  Consequently,  all  troops  and  supplies 
which  were  sent  by  rail  from  Cincinnati  to  the  South,  were 
necessarily  forwarded  via  Lexington  and  Louisville,  adding  nearly 
two  hundred  miles  to  the  entire  distance  of  transportation. 
Cincinnati  was  also  one  hundred  and  fifty  miles  farther  than 
Louisville  from  all  points  on  the  Mississippi,  Cumberland, 
and  Tennessee  Rivers  that  could  be  reached  by  water  transpor 
tation.  It  was  not,  therefore,  a  point  of  any  great  importance  in 
the  conduct  of  military  operations  at  any  time  during  the  war. 
Louisville,  on  the  other  hand,  was,  during  the  entire  war,  a  most 
important  and  indispensable  base,  whence  supplies  and  rein 
forcement  could  be  readily  and  speedily  transmitted  to  the 
Federal  armies  operating  in  Tennessee,  Alabama,  and  North 
Mississippi.  The  Louisville  &  Nashville  railroad,  of  which  it  was 
the  northern  terminus,  connected  at  Nashville  with  railroads  ex 
tending  to  Memphis,  into  Alabama,  and  to  Chattanooga.  The  loss 
of  Louisville,  therefore,  would  have  been  a  far  more  serious  blow  to 
the  Federal  arms  than  the  capture  of  Cincinnati,  and  its  pos 
session  an  infinitely  more  valuable  gain  to  the  Confederates. 

But  without  considering  these  general  features,  and  keeping 
in  view  only  the  then  existing  situation,  the  stratgeic  importance 
of  Louisville  for  the  purposes  of  that  campaign  is  apparent,  when 
it  is  remembered  that  Buell  knew  —  and  his  opponent  must  also 
have  known  —  that  the  only  hope'  of  obtaining  the  reinforce 
ments  and  supplies,  without  which  the  Federal  army  in  Kentucky 
would,  in  Na  short  time,  be  reduced  to  dire  extremities,  was  in 
reaching  that  place  with  the  least  possible  delay. 

Another  reason  offered  in  support  of  the  contention  that  it  was 
not  prudent  to  withdraw  troops  from  Smith  at  this  critical  junct 
ure  was  the  alleged  necessity  of  impeding  the  retreat  of  the  force 
under  the  Federal  general,  George  W.  Morgan,  when  it  had 
evacuated  Cumberland  Gap,  and  of  protecting  central  Ken 
tucky  against  a  possible  demonstration  upon  the  part  of  that 
officer.  It  was  sheer  folly  to  suppose  that  George  W.  Morgan 
would  have  attempted  such  a  movement.  With  a  hostile  com 
mand,  as  strong  as  his  own,  close  on  his  rear,  and  other  enemies, 
not  so  numerous,  but  actively  harassing  him,  immediately  in  his 
front  and  ready  to  assail  his  flank  should  he  deviate  from  his 


314"  .'REMINISCENCES  OF 

direct  route  to  the  Ohio,  it  was  not  probable  that  he  would  have 
turned  aside  to  attempt  questionable  strategic  experiments. 
There  was  never  reason  to  suppose  that  he  would  do  anything 
else  than  he  did  do;  that  is,  march  straight  to  some  point  where 
he  might  certainly  find  safety. 

General  Smith,  holding  Heth  and  McCown  in  readiness  to 
be  sent  to  Bragg,  should  he  demand  them,  made  every  arrange 
ment  to  obstruct  the  retreat  of  George  W.  Morgan;  and  had  his 
instructions  been  followed  with  alacrity,  and  prompt  cooper 
ation  been  obtained  between  those  charged  with  their  execution, 
the  surrender  of  that  officer  might  have  been  compelled.  Col. 
John  H.  Morgan,  whose  command  had  been  increased  by  re 
cent  additions  to  nearly  sixteen  hundred  men,  was  instructed  to 
take  a  position  in  George  W.  Morgan's  front,  and  make  every 
effort  to  delay  his  march  until  Marshall,  coming  from  eastern 
Kentucky,  and  Stevenson,  following  the  enemy  from  Cumberland 
Gap,  could  strike  him,  respectively,  in  the  flank  and  rear.  As 
I  have  already  stated,  six  hundred  of  John  H.  Morgan's  cavalry 
were  with  me  in  the  vicinity  of  Covington,  so  that  Colonel  Mor 
gan,  himself,  had  for  the  duty  assigned  him  something  more 
than  nine  hundred  men. 

George  Morgan's  first  intention  seems  to  have  been  to  march 
from  Manchester,  via  Booneville,  to  Mt.  Sterling,  and  reach  the 
Ohio  River  at  Maysville;  but  on  September  2ist,  he  diverged  to 
the  right  —  perhaps,  anticipating  an  effort  to  intercept  his 
march  —  a  movement  which  would  bring  him  to  the  river  farther 
to  the  east  and  higher  up  the  stream.  It  indicated  any 
thing,  however,  rather  than  an  intention  to  enter  central 
Kentucky. 

This  deflection  in  the  route  of  the  Federal  column  made  John 
H.  Morgan's  task  more  difficult,  and  only  by  continuous  and 
very  rapid  marching  for  two  or  three  days  and  nights  in  succes 
sion,  was  he  enabled  to  get  in  its  front  on  the  23d.  Between  that 
date  and  the  26th  he  succeeded,  by  incessant  attacks  upon  the 
head  and  flanks  of  the  column,  in  greatly  retarding  its  march; 
and  after  that  date  a  partial  obstruction  of  the  roads  with  felled 
timber,  in  addition  to  these  attacks,  so  impeded  the  Federal 
advance,  that  the  column  progressed  only  thirty  miles  in  six 
days.  Neither  Marshall  nor  Stevenson,  however,  came  within 


GENERAL  BASIL   W.  DUKE  315 

striking  distance,  and  on  October  1st,  Colonel  Morgan  received 
orders  to  rejoin  General  Smith. 

General  Bragg  offers  as  the  most  cogent  reason  for  withdraw 
ing  from  Buell's  front  and  permitting  him  to  march  unopposed 
to  Louisville,  the  fact  that  his  (Bragg's)  army  was  lacking  sub 
sistence.  He  says:  "  Reduced  at  the  end  of  fourteen  days  to 
three  days'  rations,  and  in  a  hostile  country,  utterly  destitute 
of  supplies,  a  serious  engagement  brought  on  anywhere  in  that 
direction  could  not  fail  (whatever  its  results)  to  materially  crip 
ple  me.  The  loss  of  a  battle  would  be  eminently  disastrous. 
I  was  well  aware  also  that  he  (Buell)  had  a  practicable  route 
by  way  of  Morgantown  or  Brownsville  to  the  Ohio  River  and 
thence  to  Louisville.  We  were  therefore  compelled  to  give  up 
the  object  (i.  e.,  battle  with  Buell)  before  he  reached  Louisville, 
and  send  for  some  subsistence.  Orders  were  sent  for  a  supply 
train  from  our  depot  at  Georgetown  to  meet  us  at  Bardstown, 
and  the  march  was  commenced  for  the  latter  place." 

The  question  of  subsistence  is,  undoubtedly,  very  nearly  the 
most  important  one  that  the  commander  of  an  army  is  required 
to  consider.  Nothing  is  more  true  than  the  maxim  that  "An 
army  moves  upon  its  belly."  Without  food  it  cannot  fight. 
Nor  would  it  be  altogether  fair  criticism,  perhaps,  to  say  that 
General  Bragg  must  have  known  that  he  would  encounter  this 
very  difficulty  when  he  decided  to  make  his  rapid  dash  into  Ken 
tucky.  But  the  excuses  he  offers  for  his  declination  of  battle 
in  the  language  just  quoted  are  contradicted  by  well  known 
and  incontrovertible  facts.  It  is  not  altogether  plain  what  he 
meant  by  the  assertion  that  he  was  "in  a  hostile  country."  It 
is  true  that  he  was  not  in  Confederate  territory  but  in  a  state 
which  had  been  entirely  under  the  Federal  control  and  authority; 
but  it  was  not  true  that  the  population  of  that  region  was  inimical 
to  the  Southern  cause  or  indisposed  to  render  assistance  to  his 
army.  On  the  contrary,  not  only  was  Kentucky,  generally, 
Southern  in  sympathy  and  sentiment,  but  a  majority  of  the 
people  living  in  that  part  of  the  state  where  he  then  was,  and 
whence  his  immediate  supplies  were  to  be  expected,  were  thor 
oughly  imbued  with  the  same  feeling,  and  desirous  of 
evincing  it. 

The  statement  that  this  country  was  "utterly  destitute  of 


316  REMINISCENCES  OF 

supplies"  is  even  more  inaccurate.  The  country  immediately 
about  where  his  army  was  then  established  —  and  it  was  to  this 
region,  it  is  to  be  presumed,  General  Bragg  referred  when  using 
this  language  —  is  not  so  fertile,  it  is  true,  as  that  nearer 
Louisville  nor  as  many  parts  of  central  Kentucky,  but 
it  is  by  no  means  sterile  and  unproductive,  had  at  no  time 
previously  been  occupied  by,  or  required  to  sustain,  large  bodies 
of  troops,  and  with  proper  effort  could  have  been  made  to 
furnish  all  that  was  necessary  to  subsist  an  army  for  a  few  days 
at  least.  Supplies  could  have  been  obtained  there  in  greater 
abundance  than  in  much  of  the  territory  farther  south  in 
which  Bragg's  army  had  been  quartered,  or  which  it  had  trav 
ersed  during  the  spring  and  summer. 

But  General  Bragg  had  easy  and  unmolested  access  to  a  very 
wide  territory  from  which,  with  a  well  organized  commissariat, 
he  could  in  a  brief  period  have  collected  provisions  which  would 
have  subsisted  his  army  for  months.  All  of  the  territory  be 
tween  Munfordville  and  Louisville,  and  that  farther  to  the  east, 
including  the  rich  counties  of  the  Bluegrass  were  in  undisputed 
Confederate  possession  and  control. 

Bragg  need  not  have  held  the  crossings  of  the  Green  River 
any  longer  than  the  time  required  to  enable  the  troops  which 
might  have  been  sent  to  reinforce  him  to  get  within  supporting 
distance.  We  can  agree  with  his  apologists  that  it  would  have 
been  a  hazardous  venture  on  his  part  to  cross  the  river  and  assail 
Buell;  but  no  one  has  ever  contended  that  he  should  have 
done  this.  Nor  will  any  well  informed  critic  accept  General 
BuelPs  statement  that  he  could  "have  avoided  the  enemy 
(Bragg)  by  passing  on  either  side  of  him."  Bragg,  directly  be 
tween  Buell  and  Louisville,  and  holding  the  interior  lines,  could 
have  forced  Buell  to  battle,  had  he  so  chosen,  on  any  route  by 
which  the  latter  might  have  attempted  to  reach  that  city. 

It  would  have  been  Bragg's  wiser  policy  to  withdraw  from 
the  river,  permitting  Buell  to  cross  without  hindrance,  but 
always  remaining  between  him  and  Louisville,  and  never  relin 
quishing  his  chance  to  compel  the  fight  so  soon  as  he  was  pre 
pared  for  it.  With  every  mile  he  marched  northward  he  would 
have  gotten  within  closer 'communication  with  General  Smith, 
and  into  territory  where  supplies  could  have  been  more  readily 


GENERAL  BASIL    W.  DUKE  317 

procurred.  His  army  might  have  suffered  some  inconvenience, 
but  no  real  hardship,  in  the  matter  of  rations.  Certainly  little, 
in  comparison  with  the  privations  to  which  all  of  the  Confederate 
armies  were  later  subjected,  without  seriously  impairing  their 
efficiency. 

General  Bragg  could  have  marched  directly  to  Louisville,  en 
countering  no  opposition  on  the  way.  The  raw  levies  which 
were  being  hastily  collected  could  have  offered  no  effective 
resistance.  Had  Buell  closely  pursued  him,  it  would  have  only 
been  to  invite  the  battle  which  Bragg  should  have  desired. 

In  all  the  discussion  this  campaign  has  elicited,  I  have  never 
heard  any  sufficient,  or  even  plausible,  reason  presented  why 
Bragg  should  not  have  kept  constantly  in  BuelPs  front,  barring 
his  path  to  Louisville,  and  ready  to  fight  him  so  soon  as  the  troops 
which  might  be  sent  by  General  Smith  should  arrive.  The 
situation  was  fully  under  his  control,  and  offered  the  strongest 
assurance  of  victory;  and  while  defeat  might  have  crippled  him, 
it  would  not  necessarily  or  even  probably  have  been  disastrous. 
It  can  scarcely  be  doubted,  however,  that  the  defeat  of  Buell, 
under  the  conditions,  would  have  meant  the  certain  and  utter 
destruction  of  his  army. 

When  General  Bragg  marched  to  Bardstown  and  allowed  Buell, 
without  battle,  to  march  to  Louisville,  he  surrendered  the  initia 
tive  and  lost  an  opporunity  which  could  not  be  recovered.  He 
failed  to  improve  an  advantage  —  temporary,  but  which  could 
have  been  made  decisive  —  over  an  opponent,  then  weaker,  but 
who,  if  not  then  beaten,  would  soon  be  stronger  than  himself. 

The  grasp  of  the  situation  passed  to  Buell,  who  thenceforth 
shaped  the  course  of  the  campaign. 

It  seems  that  Buell  was  also  short  of  rations,  not  having  been 
able  to  obtain  what  he  required  at  Bowling  Green;  and  so  long 
as  Bragg  confronted  and  checked  him  he  experienced  yet  greater 
difficulty  in  procuring  them.  That  he  perfectly  appreciated  the 
situation  is  shown  by  his  statement  before  the  commission  which 
subsequently  investigated  his  conduct  in  this  campaign.  Speak 
ing  of  the  military  status  at  this  date,  and  after  Bragg  had  moved 
in  the  direction  of  Bardstown,  he  said:  "Many  considerations 
rendered  it  proper  to  direct  my  march  on  Louisville,  instead  of 
following  his  route.  The  want  of  supplies  made  it  necessary> 


3i8  REMINISCENCES  OF 

many  of  the  troops  being  out  before  they  reached  the  mouth  of 
Salt  River.  This  reason  would  have  been  insuperable,  if,  as 
was  not  improbable,  the  enemy  should  concentrate  his  force  and 
throw  himself  rapidly  between  me  and  Louisville.  The  junction 
of  Bragg  and  Kirby  Smith  was  not  only  possible,  but  probable. 
It  would  have  made  their  combined  force  greatly  superior  to  me 
in  strength,  and  such  a  disposition  would  have  placed  him 
between  two  inferior  forces,  which,  from  their  position,  could 
not  have  acted  in  concert  against  him,  and  which,  therefore, 
were  liable  to  be  beaten  in  detail. 

"One  of  these  forces,  then  occupying  Louisville,  was  composed 
of  perfectly  raw,  undisciplined,  and  in  a  measure  unarmed, 
troops,  with  but  very  little  artillery  and  very  few  officers  of  rank 
or  experience.  It  could  not  have  withstood  the  veteran  rebel 
army  two  hours,  and  the  consequence  of  its  defeat  and  the  capture 
of  Louisville  would  have  been  disastrous  in  the  extreme.  That 
force,  however  —  judiciously  mixed,  could  be  made  to  render 
good  service,  as  the  result  proved." 

Bragg  marched  from  Munfordsville  on  September  2Oth  and 
reached  Bardstown  on  the  23d.  Buell  immediately  began  his 
march  to  Louisville,  and  all  of  his  army  had  gotten  there  by 
the  29th. 

General  Buell  reached  Louisville  in  person  on  the  25th,  and 
employed  the  next  four  days  with  unusual  diligence  and  energy 
in  completing  the  equipment  and  armament  of  the  new  troops, 
refurnishing  his  veterans  with  all  that  they  needed,  and  reor 
ganizing  his  entire  army  in  such  wise  that  the  recruits  could  be 
made  most  effective.  This  work  was  so  rapidly  and  successfully 
done  that  he  was  ready,  by  the  last  of  the  month,  to  march  from 
Louisville  and  assume  the  offensive. 

On  the  29th,  however,  an  order  came  from  Washington,  which 
might,  if  it  had  been  adhered  to,  have  delayed  and  perhaps 
somewhat  impaired  the  efficiency  of  the  Federal  operations.  It 
was  an  order  removing  General  Buell  from  command  and  ap 
pointing  Gen.  George  H.  Thomas  in  his  stead.  Thomas 
was  one  of  the  best  officers  then  in  the  service  of  the  United  States, 
but  it  is  not  easy  to  believe  that  he  would  have  proven  as  com 
petent,  under  the  existing  circumstances,  as  Buell.  He  did 
not  know  either  the  army  he  was  about  to  command  or  his 


GENERAL  BASIL    W.  DUKE  319 

adversary  so  well,  nor  was  he  as  conversant  with  the  situation. 
He  generously,  and  doubtless  very  wisely,  telegraphed  a  remon 
strance  against  this  action,  representing  that  Buell  had  completed 
his  preparations  for  an  aggressive  movement  and  was  about  to 
commence  it,  and  urging  that  no  change 'in  the  command  be 
made.  So  soon  as  this  protest  was  received  Halleck  suspended 
the  order. 

In  the  reorganization  of  the  army,  it  was  divided  into  three 
corps,  the  first  commanded  by  Major-general  McCook,  the 
second  by  Major-general  Crittenden,  and  the  third  by  Brigadier- 
general  Gilbert.  Each  corps  was  composed  of  three  divisions; 
but  one  division  —  Dumont's  —  seems  to  have  been,  for  a 
short  time  unattached.  General  Thomas  was  assigned  to  the 
position  of  second  in  command.  General  Buell  reported 
in  his  ranks,  present  for  duty,  fifty-eight  thousand  men, 
of  which,  however,  at  least  one  half  were  raw  and 
untried  troops.  He  moved  from  Louisville  on  October  1st., 
the  greater  part  of  the  first  corps  marching  toward  Taylors- 
ville,  but  the  divisions  of  Sill  and  Dumont  took  the  Shelbyville 
pike  in  the  direction  of  Frankfort.  This  was  doubtless  in 
tended  to  produce  the  impression  that  BuelPs  objective  was 
Lexington  and  the  adjacent  region,  and  the  demonstration 
deceived  General  Bragg.  The  second  and  third  corps  marched 
directly  toward  Bardstown.  Moving  on  excellent  roads,  the 
troops  pressed  forward  rapidly  and  had  made  considerable 
progress  before  Bragg  received  intelligence  of  their  advance. 

So  far  from  seeking  or  wishing  battle  in  the  vicinity  of  Lexing 
ton,  BuelPs  object  was  to  deliver  it  in  a  part  of  central  Kentucky 
farther  to  the  south,  and  was  manoeuvring  to  prevent  Bragg, 
should  he  now  wish  to  do  so,  from  falling  back  on  Nashville, 
and  also  to  menace  Bragg's  line  of  retreat  through  south-eastern 
Kentucky  and  the  gaps  of  the  mountains. 

General  Bragg,  as  has  been  stated,  withdrew  to  Bardstown  on 
September  23d.  He  devoted  several  days  thereafter,  says  one 
of  his  staff  officers,  "to  a  tour  of  inspection  through  Danville 
via  Springfield  and  Perryville  to  Lexington."  It  is  not  easy 
to  understand  what  it  was  that  just  then  particularly  demanded 
"  inspection ";  nor  why,  when  he  knew  that  a  formidable 


320  REMINISCENCES  OF 

foe,  whom  he  had  already  declined  and  apparently  feared  to 
encounter,  would  soon  turn  upon  him  in  strength  nearly  doubled, 
he  might  not  have  employed  the  time  allowed  him  to  better 
advantage.  The- only  satisfactory  explanation,  perhaps,  which 
can  be  given  is  that  of  the  cynical  Kentuckian,  who  declared  that 
"Bragg  inspected  his  army  in  order  to  find  out  how  much  it  had 
that  could  be  thrown  away  in  a  rapid  retreat. " 

In  the  meantime,  General  Polk,  who  had  been  left  in  command 
of  the  Army  of  the  Mississippi  had  established  a  depot  at  "Camp 
Dick  Robinson,"  rechristened  by  the  Confederates  "Camp 
Breckinridge,"  a  point  nearly  equidistant  from  Lexington  and 
Danville,  and  betweeen  the  two.  It  was  the  intention  that  all 
the  supplies  which  had  been  collected  at  Lexington  should  be 
transferred  to  this  point,  and  the  failure  to  do  so  may  have  had 
some  effect  on  the  result  of  the  campaign.  It  has  been  asserted 
that  General  Bragg  desired  to  give  battle  in  this  im 
mediate  vicinity. 

On  the  4th  of  October  the  Hon.  Richard  Hawes  was  inaugu 
rated  at  Frankfort  as  provisional  governor  of  Kentucky, 
succeeding  in  that  station  the  heroic  George  W.  Johnson,  who  had 
been  killed  at  Shiloh,  fighting  in  the  ranks  of  one  of  the  Kentucky 
regiments.  The  fact  that  General  Bragg  and  General  Smith 
were  present  and  prominently  assisted  on  this  occasion,  was  con 
strued  as  an  indication  that  the  Confederates  would  make  every 
effort  to  hold  the  state.  The  inaugural  ceremonies  were  very 
nearly  interrupted  by  rumours  of  the  approach  of  some  of  the 
Federal  troops,  who  were  moving  in  the  direction  of  Frankfort; 
but  no  actual  interference  occurred,  although  the  de 
parture  of  some  of  the  witnesses  was  greatly  accelerated. 
The  bulk  of  General  Smith's  forces  was  close  at  hand,  and  any 
real  demonstration  could  have  been  promptly  and  successfully 
opposed. 

General  Bragg's  strategic  line  at  this  date  may  be  roughly 
described  as  extending  from  Bardstown  on  his  right  to  Mt. 
Sterling  on  his  left  flank.  It  was  an  excellent  one,  as  troops  could 
move  over  good  roads,  by  interior  lines,  to  any  point  that  might 
be  threatened,  and  a  concentration  of  both  armies,  his  own  and 
that  of  General  Smith,  could  be  promptly  effected. 

Now  in  what  strength  may  we  justly  suppose  that  General 


GENERAL  BASIL    W.  DUKE  321 

Bragg  could  have  been  able  to  concentrate,  on  or  after  October 
4th  ?  The  total  effective  of  his  own  army  when  he  marched  into 
Kentucky,  was,  as  has  been  stated,  27,320  men.  Stevenson  and 
Humphrey  Marshall  had  both  joined  Kirby  Smith  before  this 
date.  According  to  General  Smith's  estimate,  heretofore  quoted, 
his  army  —  if  Marshall  had  3,000  men,  and  that  command  was 
probably  more  than  3,000  —  numbered  21,000  effectives.  Of 
this  number  nearly,  if  not  quite,  17,000  were  infantry;  which, 
added  to  the  23,938  infantry  Bragg  reported  in  August,  foots  up 
for  the  combined  forces  over  40,000  in  round  numbers,  of  that 
army.  From  this  estimate  must  be  deducted,  of  course,  the 
losses  in  killed  and  wounded  at  Richmond  and  Munfordsville, 
and  by  the  ordinary  wear  and  tear  of  a  campaign.  But  it  may 
be  confidently  asserted  that  such  loss  was  more  than  compen 
sated  by  recruits  obtained  in  Kentucky.  While  no  regiment  or 
distinct  Kentucky  organization  of  infantry  was  formed  during 
the  Confederate  occupation  of  the  state,  it  has  been  computed, 
and  I  think  correctly,  that  between  two  thousand  and  three 
thousand  Kentuckians  enlisted  in  infantry  regiments  from  other 
states  which  served  in  this  campaign.  Not  only  did  these  men 
more  than  make  up  the  loss  occasioned  by  casualties  of  any  nature, 
but  they  immediately  became  good  soldiers;  for  it  is  a  well 
recognized  fact  that,  although  time  and  diligent  training  are 
required  to  convert  a  considerable  number  of  recruits  collected 
in  the  same  organization  into  efficient  troops,  they  may,  when 
distributed  singly  or  in  small  groups  among  veterans,  become  in 
a  few  days  as  steady  and  effective  as  the  veterans  themselves. 
I  speak,  of  course,  of  the  average  American  volunteers;  an  in 
telligent  man  and  one  accustomed  to  the  use  of  arms. 

But  in  addition  to  the  troops  already  mentioned  there  were  at 
General  Bragg's  disposal  nearly  five  thousand  cavalry,  not  in 
cluded  in  the  enumeration  just  made,  but  which  had  been  re 
cently  recruited,  or  had  been  operating  independently  and  not 
regularly  attached  to  either  Bragg's  or  Smith's  army.  That  is 
to  say,  Morgan's  command  fifteen  hundred  strong  and  five 
of  six  regiments  of  cavalry  besides,  which  had  been  recently 
raised  and  were  in  the  field.  They  were  undisciplined,  but 
composed  of  excellent  material  and  imbued  with  a  thoroughly 
martial  spirit;  were  all  well  mounted  and  armed,  and 


322  REMINISCENCES  OF 

were  skilful  riders  and  good  marksmen.  A  large  proportion  of 
their  officers  had  seen  service.  These  regiments  were  capable 
of  performing  and  did  perform  valuable  service,  and  fought  well 
from  the  first  hour  of  their  organization.  Morgan's  command  — 
like  Wheeler's,  Wharton's  and  Scott's,  which  had  accompanied 
Generals  Bragg  and  Smith  upon  the  expedition  —  had  been 
accustomed  to  fight  infantry  as  well  as  cavalry. 

We  have  good  warrant,  therefore,  to  estimate  the  entire  number 
of  troops  subject  to  General  Bragg's  order  —  present  for  duty  and 
effective  —  at  little,  if  any,  less  than  fifty  thousand.  We 
have  General  Buell's  own  statement  that  his  army  was 
fifty-eight  thousand  strong  when  he  marched  out  from  Louis 
ville  on  October  1st.  One  half  of  this  number,  however, 
were  perfectly  raw  troops.  Nor  were  these  recruits  dis 
tributed  in  small  squads  among  veteran  regiments,  as  was  the 
case  with  all  those  who  then  enlisted  in  the  Confederate  infantry, 
but  they  were  organized  and  gathered  together  in  separate  regi 
ments.  The  losses  among  these  green  soldiers,  from  sickness 
and  straggling,  during  the  first  ten  or  twelve  days  of  October, 
were  heavy;  far  greater  than  were  those  of  the  Confederates  from 
similar  causes.  Moreover,  because  of  the  superior  numbers  and 
audacity  of  the  Confederate  cavalry,  the  Federal  army  suffered 
a  considerable  loss  in  prisoners,  picked  up  on  the  march.  But 
even  had  there  been  no  such  depletion  of  Buell's  numbers,  be 
tween  October  ist  and  October  I5th,  the  great  preponderance  of 
veteranship  in  Bragg's  ranks,  should,  it  would  seem,  have  made 
him  stronger  on  the  fighting  line. 

I  have  already  said  that  General  Bragg  was  deceived  by  the 
demonstration  of  Sill  and  Dumont  in  the  direction  of  Frankfort, 
and  induced  to  believe  that  Buell  wag  moving  in  force  either  upon 
Lexington  or  to  get  between  Smith  and  Polk,  who  was  in  com 
mand  of  the  troops  which  were  massed  in  the  vicinity  of  Bards- 
town.  It  was  undoubtedly  a  difficult  matter  to  obtain  prompt 
and  accurate  information  of  the  exact  routes  taken  by  the 
several  corps  of  Buell's  army,  all  of  which  marched  with  celerity; 
and  General  Bragg  should  not  be  criticized  perhaps,  because  he 
did  not  at  once  and  definitely  penetrate  Buell's  precise  intention. 
But  he  certainly  indicated  a  lack  of  strategic  instinct  himself,  or 
greatly  underrated  Buell,  when  he  supposed  that  the  latter  was 


GENERAL  BASIL    W.  DUKE  323 

about  to  attempt  a  manoeuvre  which  would  have  given  his 
adversary  every  advantage.  Had  Buell  moved,  as  Bragg  be 
lieved  he  was  about  to  do,  he  would  have  been  forced  to  traverse 
an  exceedingly  rugged  country,  unfavourable  to  the  passage 
of  troops  and  artillery,  and  to  debouch  thence  at  points  where 
the  Confederate  forces  could  have  been  easily  and  rapidly  con 
centrated  to  give  him  battle  on  ground  of  their  own  selection. 
Their  communications  and  line  of  retreat  would  also  have  been 
absolutely  secure. 

On  September  28th,  General  Bragg  had  instructed  General 
Polk,  in  the  event  of  an  advance  of  the  enemy,  to  retire  from 
Bardstown  in  the  direction  of  Danville,  in  order  to  protect 
Camp  Breckinridge  and  the  stores  that  would  be  collected  there. 

Under  the  erroneous  impression,  however,  that  Buell  was 
marching  directly  eastward  and  toward  Frankfort  and  Lexing 
ton,  Bragg  sent  an  order  to  Polk,  dated  I  p.  m.,  October  2d, 
directing  him  to  march  via  Bloomfield  toward  Frankfort  and 
endeavour  to  strike  the  enemy  in  flank  and  rear,  while  General 
Smith  would  attack  him  in  front.  Polk,  however,  was  better 
advised  of  Buell's  movements  than  was  his  chief,  or  guessed 
them  more  correctly.  He  wrote  Bragg  at  3  p.  m.,  October  3d, 
acknowledging  the  receipt  of  the  order,  but  gave  his  reasons  for 
not  obeying  it,  stating  that  under  the  conditions  "  compliance 
with  it"  would  be  "not  only  eminently  inexpedient,  but  im 
practicable." 

"I  have  called,"  he  said,  "a  council  of  wing  and  division  com 
manders,  to  whom  I  have  submitted  the  matter,  and  find  that 
they  unanimously  endorse  my  views. 

"I  shall,  therefore,  pursue  a  different  course,  assured  that 
when  the  facts  are  submitted  to  you,  you  will  justify  my  decision. 
I  move  on  the  route  indicated  by  you  toward  Camp  Breckinridge. 
The  head  of  my  column  moves  this  afternoon." 

When  this  despatch  was  written  Crittenden's  corps  of  BuelPs 
army  was  not  more  than  ten  or  twelve  miles  from  Bardstown, 
and  the  greater  part  of  Gilbert's  corps  was  close  to  Crittenden. 
McCook's  corps  was  in  easy  supporting  distance,  with  two  divi 
sions  at  Taylorsville.  The  bulk  of  the  Federal  army  could  have 
been  concentrated  in  front  of  Bardstown  by  the  afternoon  of  the 
next  day,  the  4th;  and  had  Polk  moved  toward  Frankfort  by  the 


324  REMINISCENCES  OF 

route  indicated  in  General  Bragg's  order,  he  would  have  en 
countered  all  of  these  troops,  without  hope  of  assistance  from 
General  Smith. 

On  the  afternoon  of  the  3d,  General  Polk  fell  back,  as  he  had 
written  Bragg  he  would  do,  in  the  direction  indicated  in  his  first 
instructions  of  September  28th,  and  took  position  first  at  Perry- 
ville,  ten  miles  from  Danville  and  about  the  same  distance  from 
Harrodsburg.  Leaving  Hardee  there,  with  the  left  wing  (second 
corps)  of  the  Army  of  the  Mississippi,  he  proceeded  with  his  own 
corps  to  Harrodsburg.  f<- 

In  the  meantime  Sill,  demonstrating  in  the  direction  of  Law- 
renceburg,  continued  to  "amuse"  and  mystify  General  Bragg. 
So  persistently  did  the  latter  cling  to  his  delusion  regarding  Buell's 
real  purpose,  and  insist  upon  believing  that  the  Federal  masses 
were  projected  against  Lexington,  that  as  late  as  the  7th  he  issued 
orders  looking  to  concentration  and  battle  at  Versailles.  His 
eyes  were  partially  opened  to  the  true  situation  by  information 
received  from  Hardee  that  the  enemy  was  in  his  immediate 
front  at  Perry ville.  Bragg  had  ordered  both  divisions  of  Folk's 
corps  —  Cheatham's  and  Withers's —  to  Versailles;  but  on  re 
ceipt  of  this  report  he  directed  Polk  to  proceed  with  Cheatham's 
division  to  Hardee's  support.  That  he  was  not  yet  entirely 
undeceived,  however,  is  shown  by  his  confident  instructions 
given  Polk  to  "give  the  enemy  battle  immediately,  rout  him, 
and  then  move  to  our  support  at  Versailles. " 

Buell  pressed  on  during  the  5th  and  6th,  with  the  two  corps 
of  Crittenden  and  Gilbert,  hard  upon  Polk's  track  as  the  latter 
fell  back  from  Bardstown.  On  the  night  of  the  6th  both  of 
these  corps  passed  through  Springfield  and  encamped  on  the 
road  leading  to  Perry  ville;  while  two  divisions  of  McCook's 
corps  were  on  the  road  from  Bloomfield  to  Harrodsburg,  the 
other,  Sill's,  still  being  with  Dumont's  between  Shelbyville 
and  Frankfort.  i  • 

Constant  and  heavy  skirmishing  occurred  throughout  both 
of  these  days,  as  also  on  the  4th,  between  the  heads  of  the  Federal 
columns  and  the  Confederate  cavalry,  but  the  infantry  were 
not  yet  close  enough  for  battle.  On  the  morning  of  the  yth 
Gilbert's  corps  continued  its  march  on  the  direct  road  to  Perry- 
ville,  and  Crittenden's  was  sent  to  the  right,  to  move  on  the 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  325 

Danville  and  Lebanon  Road.  McCook  was  ordered  to  proceed 
no  farther  in  the  direction  of  Harrodsburg,  but  to  march  straight 
toward  Perryville.  On  that  evening  Gilbert's  corps  was  in  the 
immediate  vicinity  of  Perryville,  and  McCook's  not  far  off 
on  the  left.  The  sharp  fighting,  which  began  in  the  latter  part 
of  the  afternoon  and  was  continued  until  late  into  the  night, 
for  the  scanty  water  supply  the  ground  about  the  little  village 
afforded,  was  a  sure  precursor  of  the  next  day's  conflict. 

One  entire  corps  of  the  Federal  army  was  on  the  ground  where 
the  battle  was  to  be  fought.  One  other  and  part  of  a  third  were 
near  by. 

General  Polk,  in  pursuance  of  General  Bragg's  order  to  that 
effect,  issued  on  the  afternoon  of  that  day,  had  sent  Cheatham's 
division  to  Perryville  to  reinforce  Hardee.  It  arrived,  General 
Polk  himself  at  its  head,  shortly  before  midnight,  and  was  im 
mediately  placed  in  line. 

The  Federal  army  was  approaching  Perryville  from  the  west. 
The  Springfield  Pike  by  which  Gilbert's  corps,  already  on  the 
ground,  had  come,  runs  through  the  centre  of  the  battle  field, 
nearly  due  east  and  west.  Farther  to  the  south,  the  Danville 
and  Lebanon  Pike  runs,  skirting  the  battle  field,  in  a  south 
easterly  direction,  until  within  about  three  quarters  of  a  mile  of 
Perryville,  and  then  turning  northward,  enters  the  little  town  from 
the  south.  To  the  north  of  the  Springfield  Pike  the  Macksville 
Pike  crosses  the  northern  end  of  the  battle  field  and  enters  the 
town  from  a  north-westerly  direction.  McCook  came  upon  this 
latter  road  and  arrived  upon  the  ground,  where  the  Federal  line 
of  battle  was  established,  between  ten  and  eleven  o'clock  of  the 
day  of  the  battle.  Crittenden's  corps  was  advancing  on  the 
Danville  and  Lebanon  Pike  and  was  close  enough  to  reach  the 
field  during  the  day.  At  the  points  where  the  Federal  line  of 
battle  was  formed  the  Springfield  Pike  is  distant  from  the 
Danville  and  Lebanon  Pike  about  two  miles;  from  the 
Macksville  Pike  a  little  less  than  that  distance. 

Chaplin's  Fork  of  Salt  River,  running  through  Perryville,  flows 
here  nearly  due  north  and  south  until,  about  two  miles  from 
and  north  of  the  town,  it  makes  a  sharp  bend  to  the  west.  To 
the  west  of  Chaplin's  Fork,  a  smaller  stream,  Doctor's  Creek, 
flows  through  the  battle  field  from  the  southwest  and  empties 


326  REMINISCENCES  OF 

x- 

into  the  former  about  a  mile  from  where  it  begins  its  western 
curve.  The  distance  between  the  two  streams  varies  from  some 
thing  less  than  a  mile  to  perhaps  two  miles  and  a  quarter,  the 
shorter  distance  including  that  part  of  the  field  extending  from 
their  junction  to  the  point  where  the  Macksville  Pike  crosses 
Doctor's  Creek,  The  ground  between  these  water  courses 
and  along  them  is  broken  and  rugged,  a  topographical  feature 
which  was  of  some  advantage  to  the  Confederates  as  affording 
them  partial  shelter  from  the  fire  of  the  superior  hostile  artillery. 
It  was  among  the  hills  on  both  sides  of  the  smaller  stream  that 
the  struggle  was  most  fiercely  contested. 

As  has  been  stated,  General  Bragg,  believirrg  that  only  a  frac 
tion  of  the  Federal  army  was  advancing  on  Perryville,  had 
ordered  General  Polk  to  attack  at  daylight  and  rout  it.  General 
Buell,  on  the  other  hand,  thinking  that  the  combined  Confederate 
forces  were  in  front  of  him,  wished  to  delay  battle  until  Crit- 
tenden  corps  had  arrived  and  his  army  should  be  practically 
concentrated.  Gilbert's  corps  was  moved  up  and  took  position, 
early  on  the  morning  of  the  8th,  about  three  miles  from  Perry 
ville,  its  left  resting  near  the  Springfield  Pike  and  its  right  extend 
ing  a  little  beyond  and  to  the  south  of  the  Danville  and  Lebanon 
Pike.  Col.  Daniel  McCook's  brigade  of  Sheridan's  division 
had  been  sent  to  Doctor's  Creek  at  3  a.  m.  to  hold  certain  pools 
in  the  bed  of  the  creek,  the  only  water  available.  He  encountered 
a  strong  Confederate  outpost  there,  and  a  sharp  fight  ensued  and 
was  kept  up  until  nearly  seven  o'clock  and  desultory  skirmishing 
and  cannonading  continued  during  the  greater  part  of  the  fore 
noon.  Shortly  after  ten  o'clock,  the  head  of  McCook's  column 
reached  the  field,  and  that  corps  was  formed  upon  the  left  of 
Gilbert's,  with,  however,  an  interval  of  some  distance  between 
them.  McCook's  line  extended  to  the  right  a  short  distance 
beyond  and  to  the  south  of  the  Macksville  Pike,  and  stretched 
on  the  left  in  the  direction  of  and  nearly  to  the  point  of  the 
junction  of  Proctor's  Creek  and  Chaplin's  Fork. 

The  number  of  Federal  troops  on  the  field  when  the  real 
fighting  began,  and  which  were  in  line  of  battle,  cannot  be  esti 
mated  at  less  than  thirty-two  or  thirty-three  thousand.  It  was 
probably  greater  than  that.  Gilbert's  corps  reported  more  than 
twenty  thousand  present  for  duty,  and  the  two  divisions  of 


GENERAL  BASIL    W.  DUKE  327 

Cook's  corps  on  the  field  —  Rousseau's  and  Jackson's  — Sill's 
being  still  detached,  must  have  mustered  at  least  ten  thousand, 
perhaps  twelve  thousand  men.  Moreover,  Crittenden's  corps 
arrived  within  supporting  distance  during  the  battle,  although 
no  part  of  it  was  engaged. 

The  total  effective  strength  of  the  three  Confederate  infantry 
divisions  engaged,  viz.,  Buckner's  and  Anderson's  divisions  of 
Hardee's  corps,  and  Cheatham's  division  of  Folk's  corps  was 
scarcely  fifteen  thousand;  and  the  entire  force  under  General 
Bragg's  command  on  that  day — infantry,  cavalry,  and  artillery — 
was  less  than  seventeen  thousand  men. 

On  the  morning  of  the  8th  —  that  of  the  battle  —  General 
Bragg,  upon  whom  a  better  perception  of  the  situation  had 
finally  forced  itself,  ceased  to  feel  uneasiness  about  the  enemy 
in  front  of  General  Smith,  and  became  exceedingly  and  justly 
apprehensive  regarding  that  part  of  his  army  which  was  at 
Perryville.  He  received  no  intimation  that  his  order  given 
General  Polk  on  the  previous  evening,  to  attack  the  enemy 
"immediately"  would  not  be  obeyed;  but  ascertaining  that  the 
attack  had  not  been  delivered,  he,  instead  of  joining  General 
Smith  at  Versailles,  went  to  Perryville,  arriving  there  at  ten 
o'clock.  General  Polk  explained  his  failure  to  obey  the  order 
by  stating  his  belief  that  the  entire  Federal  army,  or  much 
the  greater  part  of  it,  was  close  at  hand,  and  that  the  safety  of 
the  Confederate  troops  on  the  ground  would  be  compromised  if 
the  offensive  was  assumed.  General  Bragg,  however,  thought 
differently,  and,  with  a  nerve  and  decision  in  strong  contrast 
with  his  previous  and  subsequent  vacillation,  determined  to 
deliver  battle. 

After  a  brief  reconnoissance  and  obtaining  as  accurate  infor 
mation  as  was  possible  of  the  dispositions  which  had  been  made 
by  the  enemy,  General  Bragg  formed  for  attack.  He  moved 
Cheatham's  division  from  the  left,  where  it  had  been  stationed 
on  the  night  before,  to  the  right  of  his  line,  intending  that  it 
should  open  the  battle.  It  was  formed  in  column  of  brigades 
en  echelon,  and  the  expectation  that,  striking  the  Federal  left 
in  flank,  it  would  thrust  back  and  shatter  all  that  part  of  the 
hostile  array  was  fully  verified.  Buckner,  on  Cheatham's  left, 
was  expected  to  support  Cheatham  and  strike  a  home  blow  at  the 


328  REMINISCENCES  OF 

Federal  centre.  These  preparations  were  not  completed  until 
after  twelve  o'clock.  The  Confederate  cavalry  was  posted  on  the 
flanks.  Wheeler  on  the  left  watching  the  Lebanon  Pike,  Wharton 
on  the  right.  There  was  some  previous  righting  between  Sher 
idan's  division  and  a  small  Confederate  detachment  on  the 
Confederate  left,  but  the  battle  did  not  really  open  until  two 
o'clock,  when  Cheatham,  pressing  forward,  dashed  across  Doc 
tor's  Creek,  and,  falling  first  on  McCook's  extreme  left,  soon 
engaged  all  that  part  of  his  line.  This  spirited  onslaught  was 
ably  seconded  by  a  gallant  charge  made  by  Wharton.  The 
attack  seems  to  have  been  unexpected  by  the  Federals,  and, 
although  bravely,  was  at  no  point  successfully  met.  Indeed, 
Cheatham's  division  forced  back  everything  it  encountered, 
and  its  brigades  coming  successively  into  action,  like  waves 
lashing  a  beach,  swept  away  after  a  fierce  contest  all  opposition. 
Jackson's  division  of  McCook's  corps,  exposed  to  the  first  fury 
of  this  onset,  was  broken  to  pieces.  General  Jackson  and  two 
of  his  brigadiers,  Terrill  and  Webster,  were  killed. 

Promptly  following  Cheatham's  advance,  Buckner  made 
straight  for  the  Federal  centre,  and  struck  it  with  an  impact  the 
more  effective  because  it  was  already  somewhat  shaken  by  the 
vigorous  blows  delivered  on  its  left.  Although  encountering  from 
Rosseau's  division  a  more  stubborn  resistance  than  Cheatham 
had  received,  his  attack  was  finally  quite  as  successful.  The 
heaviest  loss  on  both  sides  was  at  this  point.  As  an  example, 
that  suffered  by  the  Fifteenth  Kentucky  (Federal)  infantry,  one 
of  the  finest  regiments  in  Buell's  army,  may  be  cited.  Its 
colonel,  Curran  Pope,  was  wounded,  Lieutenant-colonel  Jouette 
and  Major  Campbell  were  killed,  and  its  other  loss,  rank  and  file, 
was  correspondent. 

The  Federal  soldiers  fought  with  unflinching  resolution. 
Rosseau's  division  sustained  Buckner's  attack  with  fortitude 
for  more  than  four  hours,  and  the  rest  of  McCook's  line  rallied 
repeatedly  notwithstanding  Cheatham's  rapid  and  overwhelming 
rushes. 

The  battle  was  actually  fought  on  that  part  of  the  field  which 
lies  north  of  the  Springfield  Pike.  On  this  ground  —  the 
Federal  left  and  centre  —  the  greater  number  of  the  Confederate 
troops  were  massed,  a  comparatively  small  force  sufficing  to 


[GENERAL  BASIL    W.  DUKE\  329 

occupy  the  attention  of  Gilbert's  corps,  which  did  little  serious 
fighting,  although  it  gave  some  assistance  to  McCook,  who 
certainly  needed  it  sorely. 

The  combat  between  the  lines  of  infantry  continued  without 
intermission  from  two  until  nearly  "seven  o'clock,  but  constant 
artillery  firing  was  maintained  on  both  sides  for  an  hour  longer. 
Although  not  routed,  the  Federals  were  driven  back  in  disorder 
along  the  entire  line  where  the  real  fighting  occurred,  and  at 
the  close  of  the  day,  the  Confederates  were  in  possession  of  all 
that  part  of  the  field. 

The  severity  of  this  conflict  is  attested  by  the  loss  in  killed 
and  wounded  on  both  sides,  which,  when  its  comparatively 
brief  duration  and  the  numbers  actually  engaged  are  considered, 
was  quite  heavy.  The  Confederate  loss,  not  including  those 
reported  missing,  was  three  thousand  one  hundred  and  forty-five. 
The  Federal  loss  was  three  thousand  six  hundred  and  ninety- 
six.  Few  prisoners  were  taken  by  either  side. 

It  is  a  remarkable  circumstance,  but  perfectly  well  attested, 
that  General  Buell  was  not  aware,  until  half-past  four  of  the 
afternoon,  that  a  battle  was  in  progress.  For  two  hours  and  a 
half  a  furious  combat  had  been  waged,  not  much  more  than  two 
miles  from  his  headquarters,  and  yet  he  was  ignorant  of  the  fact. 
Even  if  as  has  been  stated,  the  rugged  conformation  of  the 
ground  prevented  his  hearing  the  sounds  of  the  strife,  it  is  hard 
to  understand  why  intelligence  was  not  sent  him  from  the  fight 
ing  line,  and  still  more  so  why  he  had  not  made  the  necessary 
provision  to  learn  all  that  was  going  on. 

When  we  consider  what  was  accomplished  at  Perryville  with 
little  more  than  one  third  of  the  troops  which  General  Bragg 
might  just  as  easily  have  concentrated  there,  it  is  impossible  to 
escape  the  conviction  that,  had  he  summoned  and  employed  the 
entire  force  at  his  disposal,  his  victory  would  have  been  complete 
and  decisive.  Forty-five  thousand  Confederate  soldiers  upon 
that  field,  of  the  same  mettle  as  those  which  won  a  partial  but 
indubitable  success  over  twice  their  number,  and  directed  with 
the  same  vigour  and  tactical  sagacity,  would  have  borne  down 
Buell's  army  in  crushing,  irretrievable  defeat. 

At  midnight  General  Bragg  withdrew  from  the  battle  field 
and  from  Perryville.  unmolested  by  the  enemy,  marched  to 


330  REMINISCENCES  OF 

Harrodsburg,  reaching  that  place  at  noon  the  next  day,  October 
9th.  On  the  same  day  General  Smith  arrived  at  Harrodsburg 
with  all  the  troops  which  had  been  assembled  in  the  vicinity  of 
Versailles  and  Lawrenceburg,  and  all  of  the  Confederate  forces 
in  Kentucky  were,  for  the  first  time,  concentrated. 

The  belief  was  prevalent  among  the  Confederate  officers 
best  informed  about  the  situation,  and  it  was  universally  hoped 
and  expected  by  those  in  the  ranks,  that  a  decisive  battle  would 
be  fought  at  Harrodsburg.  Every  thing  in  the  attitude  and 
management  of  the  army  —  all  the  signs  by  which  the  soldier, 
who  is  not  admitted  to  the  councils  of  his  commander,  can  yet 
sometimes  understand  his  intentions  —  indicated  that  battle 
was  imminent,  and  that  General  Bragg  wished  to  fight. 

I  very  distinctly  remember  a  conversation  I  had  with  two  or 
three  officers  of  General  Smith's  staff  on  the  night  before  the 
retreat  and  the  consequent  evacuation  of  Kentucky  was  begun, 
and,  perhaps,  just  about  the  time  it  was  determined  upon.  They 
spoke  of  the  dispositions  which  had  been  made,  unmistakably 
indicating  that  General  Bragg  was  preparing  to  encounter  the 
enemy  with  his  entire  force,  and  expressed  strong  confidence  of 
a  successful  result.  Aware,  of  course,  that  they  had  received 
this  impression  from  General  Smith  and  assuming  that  he  knew 
General  Bragg's  plans,  I  entertained  no  doubt  that  within  forty- 
eight  hours,  at  the  farthest,  the  final  issue  would  be  joined  and 
the  game  decided. 

There  is  every  reason  to  believe  that,  when  General  Bragg 
concentrated  at  Harrodsburg,  it  was  with  the  purpose  of  accept 
ing  the  battle  which  he  knew  Buell  would  offer.  He  was  as 
thoroughly  ready  as  he  could  hope  to  be.  His  army  was  in  better 
condition,  in  all  respects,  than  at  any  time  previously,  and  its 
morale  was  perfect;  every  man  in  his  ranks  was  convinced  that 
we  were  on  the  eve  of  victory. 

If  General  Bragg  had  meant  to  fight  at  Versailles,  in  the  event 
that  the  enemy  had  approached  that  point  in  force  —  and  his 
friends  assert  that  such  was  his  intention  —  he  should  have  been 
even  more  willing  to  fight  at  Harrodsburg. 

The  full  strength  of  both  armies  was  present  or  immediately 
at  hand;  but  Bragg  was  relatively  stronger  at  Harrodsburg  than 
he  would  have  been  at  Versailles.  I  have  estimated,  and  I  think 


GENERAL  BASIL    W.  DUKE  331 

correctly,  that  Buell,  when  he  marched  out  of  Louisville,  out 
numbered  Bragg  about  eight  thousand.  The  Federal  army  had 
suffered  a  heavier  loss  in  killed  and  wounded  at  Perryville  than 
had  the  Confederate,  and  its  depletion  on  the  march,  by  sickness 
and  straggling  -1-  casualties  of  all  kinds  —  had  been  much  greater. 
The  fighting  at  Perryville  should  have  in  nowise  diminished,  but 
might,  indeed,  have  justly  enhanced  General  Bragg's  confidence 
in  the  prowess  of  his  troops;  and  it  would  seem  that  his  experience 
with  Buell  in  that  combat  might  have  warranted  the  opinion  that 
the  Federal  commander  was  not  so  alert  and  formidable  as  a 
tactician  and  battle  leader  as  he  had  proven  himself  to  be  as  a 
strategist.  The  two  armies  were  more  nearly  matched  in  numbers 
at  Harrodsburg  than  they  would  have  been  at  any  time  previ 
ously,  after  Buell  received  his  reinforcements;  and  the  superi 
ority  of  the  Confederate  veterans  in  the  field  over  an  army  so 
largely  composed  of  quite  raw  troops,  had  been  clearly  demon 
strated.  When,  therefore,  General  Bragg,  on  October  loth, 
aligned  his  entire  command  on  ground  judiciously  selected  and 
adapted  either  to  attack  or  defence  —  when  every  preparation 
for  battle  was  completed,  and  he  seemed  to  be  awaiting  with 
grim  determination  the  arrival  of  his  adversary  —  the  feeling 
which  prevaded  the  Confederate  battalions  that  he  would  fight 
and  ought  to  fight  was  certainly  justified. 

Yet,  with  a  vacillation  almost  inconceivable  and  certainly  un 
exampled  among  his  compeers,  he  changed  his  mind  again  that 
evening  —  as  certain  of  his  despatches  show  —  and  resolved  to 
fall  back  upon  Bryantsville,  probably  to  retreat  to  Knoxville. 
The  sombre  and  unfriendly  destiny  which,  from  the  beginning  of 
the  struggle  had  frowned  upon  Confederate  effort,  seeming  to 
make  success  impossible  or  render  victory  fruitless,  again 
intervened.  It  had  stricken  with  death  the  valiant  chieftain 
who  led  us  at  Shiloh;  it  now  smote  our  commander  in  Kentucky 
with  a  panic,  which  no  other  man  in  his  ardent  and  undaunted 
ranks  shared  or  could  understand. 

.On  the  same  day  the  greater  part  of  Buell's  army  took  position 
south  of  the  Confederate  line  and  practically  parallel  with  it. 
The  two  armies  were  bivouacked  scarcely  three  miles  from  each 
other,  both  in  line  of  battle  and  stretched  out  in  semi-elliptical 
crescent  formation.  Although  the  night  was  cloudy  and  dark, 


332  REMINISCENCES  OF 

a  drizzling  rain  falling,  the  glare  of  innumerable  camp  fires, 
piercing  the  mist  like  the  red-hot  glow  of  a  furnace,  distinctly- 
marked  the  positions  of  the  contending  hosts. 

Late  upon  the  afternoon  of  the  loth  a  demonstration  by  Buell 
toward  Danville  induced  Bragg  to  believe  that  an  attempt  was 
about  to  be  made  to  obstruct  his  line  of  retreat.  It  was  nothing 
more  than  a  strong  reconnoissance,  but  it  seems  to  have  seriously 
alarmed  the  Confederate  commander.  Why  so,  however,  it 
is  hard  to  understand.  Even  had  such  been  Buell's  intention, 
it  should  have  in  nowise  altered  Bragg's  purpose  to  give  battle. 
Indeed,  it  improved  his  chances  of  success,  for  so  great  an  ex 
tension  of  the  Federal  line  would  have  correspondingly  weakened 
its  fighting  force  at  the  point  and  moment  of  actual  collision; 
and  a  general  who  is  reasonably  assured  of  victory  may  be  par 
doned  for  giving  small  consideration  to  an  academic  question  of 
retreat.  But  whenever  that  idea  entered  General  Bragg's  in 
tellect  it  was  impossible  for  any  other  to  obtain  ingress,  and  when 
the  morning  dawned  which  should  have  witnessed  the  Confederate 
army  bearing  down  in  resistless  onset,  it  was,  instead,  retiring 
reluctantly  and  sullenly  from  the  only  field  where  victory  might 
certainly  have  purchased,  ultimate  Confederate  success. 

A  council  of  war  was  held  so  soon  as  the  army  reached  Bryants- 
ville,  and  it  was  decided  to  evacuate  Kentucky,  and  return  to 
east  Tennessee  via  Cumberland  Gap  "while  the  route  was  open 
and  the  roads  were  yet  good. "  So  upon  the  ijth,  the  movement 
began,  Polk  and  Hardee  marching  through  Lancaster,  Crab 
Orchard,  and  Mt.  Vernon,  and  the  troops  under  General  Smith's 
command  proceeding  by  way  of  Big  Hill  to  London.  At  the 
latter  place  the  entire  column  was  reunited  and  pushed  on  to 
and  through  Cumberland  Gap  to  Knoxville.  The  cavalry  of 
Wheeler,  Morgan,  and  Ashby  covered  the  retreat,  which,  for 
three  or  four  days,  was  closely  followed  by  a  considerable  part 
of  Buell's  army.  During  that  time  numerous  skirmishes  and 
partial  engagements  occurred,  but,  for  the  most  part,  bloodless 
and  of  small  consequence.  Marshall  went  back  through  eastern 
Kentucky  and  Pound  Gap  to  western  Virginia.  Morgan,  his 
services  in  the  rear  of  the  army  being  no  longer  needed,  was  per 
mitted,  on  the  1 7th,  to  leave  the  column  and  make  his  way  to 
Tennessee  by  any  route  he  might  choose.  He  dashed  back  upon 


GENERAL  BASIL    W.  DUKE 


333 


Lexington,  defeating  and  capturing  there  the  Federal  garrison 
and  a  regiment  of  cavalry.  Then  traversing  central  Kentucky 
with  a  celerity  unusual  even  for  him,  passing  through  the  midst 
of  the  Federal  masses  which  were  pressing  on  to  Nashville,  burn 
ing  wagon  trains  and  picking  up  every  straggling  detachment  in 
his  path,  he  reached,  after  a  week  of  rapid  marching,  Hopkins- 
ville  in  western  Kentucky. 

On  the  loth  of  October  more  than  fifty  thousand  Confederate 
soldiers  were  upon  the  soil  of  Kentucky,  eagerly  expecting  battle, 
confident  and,  I  believe,  invincible.  Before  the  1st  of  Novem 
ber  they  were  all  gone,  and  with  them  departed  all  hope,  perhaps, 
of  Southern  independence.  A  victory  won  by  these  men  at  this 
time  would  have  destroyed  the  only  Federal  army  in  the  West 
which  was  then  efficient  or,  indeed,  available,  and  would  have 
placed  Kentucky  and  Tennessee  firmly  in  the  Confederate  grasp. 
The  South  would  have  been,  in  large  measure,  cleared  of  invaders, 
and  a  host  of  recruits  would  have  been  brought  into  the  Confed 
erate  ranks.  The  victories  won  in  Virginia  would  have  become 
fruitful  of  results,  when  their  moral  effect  had  been  supplemented 
by  similar  successes  in  the  west;  and  the  people  of  the  Northern 
states,  however  extreme  may  have  been  their  reluctance,  would 
have  been  compelled  to  consider  the  necessity  of  ending  a  bloody, 
ruinous,  and  apparently  hopeless  contest.  But  when  Bragg 
refused  to  listen  to  the  wish  of  his  gallant  army  and  consulted 
only  his  own  fears,  he  threw  away  the  best  and  last  chance  the 
Confederacy  had  to  win. 

General  Bragg's  army,  subsequently  entitled  the  Army  of 
Tennessee,  after  a  long  and  harassing  march,  reached  Murfrees- 
boro  about  the  middle  of  November.  The  army  which  it  had 
confronted  in  Kentucky  —  now  commanded  by  Rosecrans, 
Buell  having  been  removed  —  had,  a  few  days  previouly,  reached 
Nashville.  Brief  as  had  been  their  experience,  the  recruits  re 
ceived  at  Louisville  had  already  become  soldiers  in  spirit  and 
discipline.  Constantly  augmented  in  numbers,  this  army  was 
more  formidable  in  each  successive  encounter;  and  the  value  of 
the  Confederate  opportunity  lost  at  Harrodsburg  was  demon 
strated  on  two  great  fields  in  Tennessee,  and  when  Sherman, 
having  pressed  down  from  Dalton  to  Atlanta,  marched  from 
Atlanta  to  the  sea. 


334  REMINISCENCES  OF 

It  might  be  fortunate  for  General  Bragg's  memory  if  his  career 
as  a  Confederate  soldier  should  be  fully  told.  No  man  has  been 
more  bitterly  and  in  some  respects,  unjustly  assailed.  But  a 
complete  narration  of  his  record  would  require  that  a  great  deal 
of  Confederate  history  be  recapitulated  —  especially  that  of  the 
Army  of  Tennessee,  with  which,  as  I  have  said,  no  other  officer 
was  so  closely  identified. 

But  for  more  than  aught  else  which  he  did,  or  with  which  he 
was  connected,  he  will  be  remembered  because  of  this  campaign 
in  Kentucky.  The  recollection  of  much  really  able  and  courageous 
conduct  —  with  which  he  should  be  credited  —  will  be  overshad 
owed  and  forgotten  when  the  weakness  he  then  displayed  is 
considered.  Rightly  or  not,  he  will  be  responsible  for  the  non- 
realization  of  the  hopes  which  that  campaign  inspired. 

He  remained  in  command  of  the  Army  of  Tennessee  until  after 
the  disastrous  affair  at  Missionary  Ridge,  November  25,  1863. 
The  high  state  of  efficiency  in  which  that  gallant  host  was  main 
tained  during  that  period  must  be  accepted,  in  large  measure, 
at  least,  as  testimony  to  his  capacity  as  a  military  administrator; 
but  its  unflinching  morale  in  all  adversity  —  the  undaunted 
temper  with  which  it  sustained  every  reverse  and  disappoint 
ment  —  was  inherent  and  taught  by  no  commander.  It  fur 
nished  abundant  proof  of  its  readiness  for  combat  and  the 
effective  style  in  which  it  always  fought,  in  its  first  engagement 
after  the  retreat  from  Kentucky,  the  three  days  of  stubborn  and 
bloody  conflict  at  Murfreesboro. 

After  reaching  Nashville,  Rosecrans  had  earnestly  striven  to 
prepare  his  army  for  offensive  operations,  but  the  injury  pre 
viously  done  the  Louisville  &  Nashville  railroad  greatly  re 
tarded  him.  Moreover,  General  Bragg  used  his  cavalry  with 
excellent  effect  during  November  and  December.  Morgan 
entered  Kentucky  and  again,  for  a  time,  interrupted  communi 
cation  between  Nashville  and  Louisville,  while  Forrest  performed 
the  same  work  in  west  Tennessee,  shutting  off  all  communication 
with  Memphis.  It  was  not  until  December  26,  1862,  that  the 
Federal  advance  began. 

On  that  date  Rosecrans  moved  out  from  Nashville,  with  the 
purpose  of  attacking  Bragg  at  Murfreesboro.  His  march  was  so 
delayed  by  the  energetic  resistance  which  the  Confederate  cavalry 


GENERAL  BASIL    W.  DUKE  335 

under  Wheeler  and  Wharton  offered  from  the  moment  of  its 
commencement  that  he  did  not  arrive  in  the  vicinity  of  Mur- 
freesboro  until  the  afternoon  of  the  3Oth.  The  Confederate 
army  had  in  the  meantime  been  concentrated,  and  formed  for 
battle  about  a  mile  and  a  half  west  of  the  town.  General  Bragg's 
formation  has  been  criticized,  especially  in  that  his  line  was  es 
tablished  on  both  sides  of  Stone  River  and  divided  by  that 
stream,  but  this  objection  seems  to  have  been  trivial,  the  river 
was  fordable  at  all  points;  at  any  rate,  his  dispositions  were  such 
that  his  troops  were  brought  promptly  into  action  and  could 
have  readily  supported  one  another  at  all  points  along  the  line. 

There  was  some  fighting  on  the  afternoon  of  the  3Oth,  although 
Rosecrans  had  not  intended  to  give  battle  until  the  3 1st.  Bragg, 
however,  whose  troops  had  been  in  line  for  two  days,  chose  to 
anticipate  rather  than  await  attack,  and  began  the  battle  at 
daybreak  on  that  morning,  taking  his  adversary,  whose  dispo 
sitions  were  not  entirely  completed,  partially  by  surprise. 

The  fighting  opened  in  the  stereotyped  fashion  in  which  Bragg 
was  accustomed  to  commence  action;  the  firing  beginning  upon 
one  wing  and  being  taken  up  successively  by  brigades  extending 
toward  the  other,  until  the  whole  line  was  engaged.  There  may 
have  been  paucity  of  invention  in  this  method,  but  it  is  certain 
that  the  Confederate  attack,  especially  on  this  first  day,  was 
eminently  successful. 

Hardee  on  the  Confederate  left  pushed  vigorously  against  the 
enemy.  The  first  shock  of  this  onset  fell,  as  at  Perryville,  upon 
McCook's  corps,  which  was  severly  battered  and  driven  for  some 
distance.  The  remainder  of  Bragg's  line  came  rapidly  into  action, 
and  Rosecrans,  although  his  centre  held  fast,  was  forced  back 
upon  both  wings. 

Notwithstanding  the  heavy  punishment  unexpectedly  re 
ceived,  the  Federal  troops  fought  with  a  determination  that  could 
not  have  been  excelled,  and  opposed  stubborn  and  continuous 
resistance  to  every  attack.  They  clung  with  especial  tenacity 
to  that  part  of  the  field  where  the  cuts  and  embankments  of  the 
railroad  furnished  shelter  equivalent  to  that  of  fortification. 
The  fiercest  struggle  of  the  three  days  of  actual  combat,  was  on 
Friday,  January  2d,  when  Breckinridge  made  the  famous 
charge  which  will  be  remembered  in  Confederate  military  annals 


336  REMINISCENCES  OF 

with  that  of  Pickett  at  Gettysburg.  The  fighting  in  this  desperate 
conflict  lasted  only  one  hour  and  twenty  minutes,  in  which  time 
Breckinridge's  division  lost  seventeen  hundred  men  out  of  forty- 
five  hundred. 

The  battle  of  Murfreesboro,  or  Stone  River,  as  it  is  generally 
termed  by  Northern  writers,  has  been  claimed  as  a  Federal  vic 
tory,  because  Bragg  finally  relinquished  the  ground  on  which  it 
was  fought.  He  withdrew  at  an  early  hour  on  the  morning  of  the 
4th.  Nevertheless,  it  is  indisputable  that  Rosecrans  was  on  the 
defensive  during  the  entire  battle;  that  he  was  driven  back  upon 
almost  every  part  of  the  field;  and  that  there  had  been  no  fight 
ing  for  more  than  twenty-four  hours  before  the  Confederate 
troops  retired  from  the  positions  they  had  occupied  at  the  ter 
mination  of  the  fighting. 

There  can  be  no  doubt  that  of  the  two  armies  the  Federal 
suffered  the  more  seriously.  Rosecrans  made  no  attempt  at 
pursuit,  nor  did  he  do  anything  which  might  be  construed  into  an 
effort  to  improve  a  victory.  After  occupying  Murfreesboro, 
he  remained  inactive  for  nearly  six  months,  and  his  advance, 
when  he  then  began  it,  was  cautious  and  dilatory. 

General  Bragg  has  been  severly  censured  for  retiring  from  the 
front  of  his  enemy  at  Murfreesboro,  but  if  it  was  a  tactical  mis 
take  there  is  yet  much  to  be  said  in  excuse  for  it.  The  Federal 
army  was  at  least  ten  thousand  stronger  numerically  than  the 
Confederate,  and  the  efficiency  of  the  latter  was  impaired  by 
severe  effort;  not  only  had  it  been  constantly  and  actively  attack 
ing  during  the  battle,  but  its  work  for  several  days  previously  had 
been  of  an  exceedingly  exhausting  nature.  Some  of  General 
Bragg's  best  officers  urged  this  course,  and  a  council  of  war, 
convened  on  the  evening  of  January  3d,  advised  it. 

Bragg  retreated  no  great  distance  and  gave  up  really  little 
territory,  making  his  headquarters  at  Tullahoma,  about  forty 
miles  from  Murfreesboro.  The  greater  part  of  his  infantry  was 
established  much  nearer  the  latter  place,  at  Manchester  and 
Shelbyville.  His  cavalry  held  the  country  in  advance  of  these 
places  and  still  farther  to  the  west. 

On  May  loth,  Gen.  Joseph  E.  Johnston  called  two  brigades 
from  the  Army  of  Tennessee  to  reinforce  the  forces  in  Mississippi, 
which  were  attempting  _the  relief  of  Vicksburg,  and  on  May 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  337 

24th,  Breckinridge's  division  was  also  sent  to  Jackson.  These 
draughts  so  depleted  the  strength  of  Bragg's  army  that  its  reten 
tion  of  any  territory  in  middle  Tennessee  became  impossible. 
Nor  was  it  any  longer  possible  to  replenish  the  decimated  Confed 
erate  ranks.  Voluntary  enlistment  was  practically  a  thing  of  the 
past.  Indeed,  save  when  some  high-spirited  boy,  barely  old 
enough  to  shoulder  a  musket,  offered  fresh  sacrifice,  there  was  no 
longer  material  whence  such  recruits  could  be  gotten.  The  con 
scription  was  at  no  time  of  much  value  in  increasing  the  strength 
of  the  Southern  armies,  and  at  this  date  the  area  wherein  it  could 
be  enforced  was  so  restricted  that  it  was  virtually  useless.  So 
that  when  Rosecrans,  who  had  been  heavily  reinforced,  at  length, 
on  June  23d,  advanced,  Bragg  was  compelled  to  retire  to  the 
south  of  the  Tennessee  River,  with  the  hope  of  obtaining  aid 
from  the  Army  cf  Northern  Virginia,  and  of  concentrating  all 
forces  available  for  further  resistance  in  the  neighbourhood  of 
Chattanooga. 

Rosecrans  followed  leisurely,  and  it  was  not  until  the  2Oth  of 
September  that  the  great  battle  of  Chickamauga  was  fought.  It 
is  conceded  that  Bragg  was  the  victor  in  this  tremendous  con 
test;  that  he  in  no  wise  utilized  his  victory  is  still  less  matter  of 
debate.  Failing  to  pursue  and  press  that  half  of  Rosecran's 
army  which  had  fallen  back,  routed,  into  Chattanooga,  and  to 
capture,  as  he  might  have  done,  not  only  the  fugitives  but  also 
Chattanooga,  just  then  of  supremely  strategic  importance,  he 
threw  away  his  advantage  in  unavailing  attacks  upon  the  un 
beaten  ranks  of  Thomas,  which,  posted  amid  the  rugged  hills  of 
the  Chickamauga,  held  him  at  bay. 

After  the  battle  he  took  position  on  the  heights  south  of  Chat 
tanooga  and  began  what  has  been  termed  a  siege  of  that  place, 
which  was  as  futile  as  it  was  ill  advised.  Then  came  the  disaster 
of  Missionary  Ridge,  and  no  longer  resisting  the  oft  expressed 
wish  of  his  army  that  he  should  cease  to  lead  it,  and  either  tardily 
recognizing  that  he  was  inadequate  to  successful  leadership  or 
that  fate  was  against  him,  he  voluntarily  relinquished  command. 

In  February,  1864,  he  was  called  to  Richmond  as  military  ad 
viser  of  President  Davis  and  made  virtually  inspector-general 
of  all  the  Confederate  armies,  a  position  for  which  he  was  pecu 
liarly  well  fitted.  He  commanded  once  again  in  the  field,  at 


338  GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE 

the    indecisive   battle    of   Kinston,  fought   in   North  Carolina, 
March  8,  1865. 

General  Bragg  was  a  good  soldier,  but  in  no  respect  a  great 
captain.  He  could  organize  and  adapt  the  means  by  which 
an  end  might  be  attained,  but  could  not  design  or  accomplish 
the  end.  He  could  plan  to  a  certain  extent,  or  partially  exe 
cute  a  plan  formulated  by  another,  but  seemed  incapable  of 
pursuing  any  plan  to  its  consummation.  He  evinced  undaunted 
and  determined  courage  as  a  subordinate,  but  was  subject,  when 
in  chief  command  and  feeling  entire  responsibility,  to  sudden 
an  apparently  uncontrollable  starts  of  timidity.  As  second  in 
command  to  a  leader  like  Lee  or  Albert  Sidney  Johnston,  his 
assistance  would  have  been  invaluable;  but  it  was  a  misfortune 
for  the  Confederacy,  and  for  himself,  that  he  was  advanced  from 
the  position  of  lieutenant  to  that  of  leader. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

THE    third  of  June,  the  anniversary  of  the  birth  of  Jeffer 
son  Davis,  will  be  universally  celebrated  in  the  Southern 
states  and    remembered    with    more   or   less    respectful 
observance  wheresoever  people  of  Southern  blood  reside.     This 
date,  and  the  I9th  of  January,  the  anniversary  of  the  birth  of 
Gen.  Robert  E.  Lee,  have  been  chosen  by  those  who  desire  to 
preserve  and  honour  the  memories  with  which  they  are  peculiarly 
connected,  as  the  two  days  which  all  who  served  or  sympathized 
with  Confederate  aspiration  and  effort  should  hold  in  especial 
reverence  and  regard  as  appropriate  days  of  commemoration. 

History  shows  nothing  so  distinctly,  perhaps,  as  the  popular 
tendency  to  accept  the  names  of  men  who  have  been  most  con 
spicuous  and  representative  in  any  cause  or  epoch,  as  symbolic 
of  the  ideas  and  sentiments  which,  at  such  time,  have  most 
strongly  possessed  the  popular  heart.  Human  nature  is  prone 
to  typify  in  this  wise.  Principles  may  be  imperfectly  under 
stood  —  at  any  rate,  the  masses  may  not  be  able  to  give  them 
clear  definition  or  articulate  expression  —  events,  however  im 
portant  or  decisive,  may  be  partially  forgotten;  but  the  men  who 
have  been  foremost  or  most  noted  in  seeking  or  striving  after 
that  which  a  people  have  loved  or  hoped  for  are  remembered 
through  the  ages.  Many  others  may  have  felt  as  earnestly 
and  done  nearly  as  much,  many  thousands  may  have  suffered 
more,  but  the  popular  instinct,  selects,  and  usually  with  unerr 
ing  sagacity,  those  who  have  been  chiefly  instrumental  in  demand 
and  action  and  makes  their  names  immortal. 

It  is  easy  to  understand  why  General  Lee  should  be  thus 
regarded.  Amiable  and  conservative  as  was  his  nature,  he  yet 
represented  more  completely  than  any  other  leader  —  unless 
it  was  Jackson  —  the  actual  spirit  and  destiny  of  the  Confed 
eracy,  which,  begun  in  the  face  of  threat  and  invasion,  closing 
in  desperate  resistance  to  inevitable  disaster,  was  militant  always 
during  the  brief  period  of  its  struggle  for  separate  national 

339 


340  REMINISCENCES  OF 

existence.  Constantly  in  the  field,  constantly  offering  or  accept 
ing  battle,  the  eyes  of  a  people,  who  then  thought  of  little  else, 
were  ever  upon  him.  His  name  was  associated  with  repeated 
and  indisputable  victory,  and  identified  more  than  any  other 
with  Confederate  glory.  Before  the  end  of  the  conflict  he  had 
become  the  idolized  hero  of  the  people  of  the  South;  and  it  is  not 
to  be  expected  that  their  love  and  admiration  of  him  would  be 
less  after  his  fame  had  gone  over  the  whole  world. 

But  Mr.  Davis  was  not  so  popular  at  the  close  of  the  war  as 
when  he  had  been  elected  President  of  the  Confederacy.  At 
that  date  he  was  the  most  prominent  public  man  of  the  South, 
and  generally  esteemed  the  ablest.  A  well  equipped  and  ex 
perienced  statesman,  a  man  of  the  highest  personal  integrity, 
perfect  courage,  and  absolute  conviction,  and  an  eloquent  and 
attractive  orator,  his  influence  with  a  people  of  whose  social 
and  political  ideas  he  was  a  thorough  exponent,  was  exception 
ally  potent.  They  looked  to  him  as  their  advocate  upon  the  floor 
of  the  senate,  where  he  met  few  equals  in  debate,  and  as  the 
champion  of  Southern  views  and  interests  in  every  public  forum 
where  such  questions  were  discussed. 

Yet  intensely  Southern  as  Mr.  Davis  was  in  feeling  those  who 
deemed  him  a  secessionist,  in  that  he  desired  the  dissolution  of 
the  Union  or  that  he  would  not  have  consented  to  any  sacrifice 
compatible  with  what  he  believed  to  be  the  just  rights  of  the 
South,  in  order  to  preserve  it,  did  him  gross  injustice.  He  was 
in  no  sense  a  "fire-eater,"  and  no  man,  probably,  more  pro 
foundly  deplored  what  he  honestly  considered  a  terrible  necessity. 

Mississippi  having  been  one  of  the  earliest  states  to  secede, 
and  Mr.  Davis's  commanding  capacity  and  leadership  receiving 
general  recognition,  he  was  logically  chosen  as  President  when 
the  provisional  Confederate  government  was  formed,  and  sub 
sequently  continued  in  office  by  popular  election. 

Whether  or  not  some  other  man  might  not  have  been  more  suc 
cessful  in  that  position  has  been  a  favourite  theme  of  discussion. 
That  Mr.  Davis  made  some  mistakes  no  one  would,  of  course, 
think  of  denying.  No  man  so  tried,  attempting  a  work  so  ardu 
ous  with  resources  so  scanty,  and  confronted  with  odds,  both 
in  men  and  material,  so  tremendous,  could  have  avoided  occa 
sional  error.  The  very  magnitude  of  the  task  might  sometimes 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  341 

induce  over  caution,  or  again  tempt  to  undue  rashness;  and  a 
temper  less  ardent  than  his  might  be  urged  beyond  control  in 
such  an  ordeal.  But  it  is  difficult  to  believe  that  any  one  whose 
name  has  been  suggested  in  such  connection  could  have  done 
better  or  indeed  so  well. 

Little  opportunity  was  afforded  him  for  exhibition  of  the 
capacity  for  civil  administration  which  he  undoubtedly  pos 
sessed.  The  Confederacy,  as  I  have  said,  was  racked  with 
war  from  its  cradle  to  its  grave  —  war  which  raged  along  its 
borders  and  burned  in  its  vitals;  there  was  no  time  nor  chance 
then  to  cultivate  the  "arts  of  peace"  or  improve  the  teachings 
of  political  economy. 

Mr.  Davis  has  been  accused  of  a  short-sighted  policy  in  not 
having  made  ample  provision  for  the  tremendous  struggle  in 
which  the  Confederacy  became  engaged.  There  can  be  no 
doubt  that  in  common  with  many  other  public  men  of  the  South 
—  indeed,  the  majority  of  them  —  he  failed  to  realize  the  true 
nature  and  magnitude  of  the  impending  conflict;  or,  it  may  be 
he  hoped  that  there  would  be  no  war.  But  in  nowise  could  he 
in  the  then  rapid  progress  of  events  have  made  such  provision 
after  his  inauguration  as  President.  To  impute  the  lack  of 
it  to  him  and  hold  him  individually  or  officially  responsible 
is  absurd.  Such  criticism  would  be  juster  and  more  pertinent 
if  directed  against  those  who  hurried  the  South  without  prepara 
tion,  into  a  movement  certain  to  induce  war. 

It  will  always  remain,  indeed,  a  historical  marvel  that  the 
Confederacy  held  out  as  long  as  it  did;  that  the  seceded  states, 
lacking  means,  material,  money,  transportation,  every  thing, 
in  short,  supposed  to  be  necessary  to  the  successful  conduct 
of  warfare  —  having  to  improvise  or  capture  arms  and  muni 
tions  —  made  such  a  fight.  It  is  surely  a  high  tribute  not 
only  to  the  spirit  of  the  people,  but  to  the  ability  and  energy 
of  those  in  authority. 

Curiously  and  rather  inconsistently,  some  of  Mr.  Davis's 
critics,  who  profess  to  believe  that  he  should  have  employed 
his  official  opportunities  in  an  arbitrary  fashion  altogether  beyond 
the  legal  and  constitutional  restrictions  imposed  upon  his  conduct, 
also  complain  that  he  exercised  in  an  autocratic  spirit  the  author 
ity  which  actually  and  rightfully  belonged  to  him.  It  is  not 


342  REMINISCENCES  OF 

easy,  of  course,  to  understand  that  a  government  like  that  which 
the  people  of  the  Southern  states  were  seeking  to  establish, 
"born  in  the  throes  of  revolution"  and  fighting  desperately  for 
life,  would  scrupulously  observe  constitutional  limitations  and 
yield  in  matters  of  manifest  and  pressing  expediency  to  the  rigid 
requirements  of  law.  Some  confusion  of  ideas  on  this  subject, 
therefore,  may  be  expected;  and  it  might  have  been  more  expe 
dient  to  direct  executive  functions  with  less  regard  to  theoretic 
propriety  than  with  energetic  and  relentless  purpose  to  achieve 
success.  Better  hope  of  success  might  have  attended  the  effort 
if  all  that  the  territory  of  the  Confederacy  could  produce  or  fur 
nish  had  been  utilized,  even  by  compulsion,  for  the  conduct  of 
the  war;  if  an  earlier  and 'more  general  enlistment  had  been  en 
forced,  and  a  sensitive  regard  for  constitutional  sanction  or 
inhibition  had  been  pretermitted  until  the  Confederacy  was 
firmly  established. 

But  to  expect  Mr.  Davis  to  do  this,  or  to  consent  to  it,  would 
indicate  a  total  misconception  of  his  character.  Imperious  as 
was  his  will  and  fiery  his  temper,  however  wedded  to  certain 
ideas  which  may  have  been  fallacious,  and  resolved  upon  policies 
perhaps  inadequate,  he  was,  nevertheless,  in  all  things  honest 
and  devoted  to  principle,  and  above  all  intensely  patriotic. 
Those  who  believed  that  ambition  impelled  him  to  countenance 
or  aid  in  secession,  and  those  who  expected  that,  as  President 
of  the  Confederacy,  he  would  use  unwarranted  or  even  extra 
ordinary  means  to  accomplish  the  independence  of  the  South, 
were  mistaken.  Ardent  in  temperament,  his  intellect  was  yet 
peculiarly  conservative.  No  man  adhered  more  faithfully  to 
the  traditions  in  which  he  had  been  reared  and  the  tenets  taught 
him  in  his  youth  and  the  novitiate  of  his  political  career.  When 
he  consented  to  secession  it  was  because  he  religiously  believed 
that  the  Union  was  a  compact  between  equal  and  sovereign 
states,  which,  under  certain  conditions  —  conditions  which  he 
thought  then  existed  —  might  properly  be  rescinded.  He 
believed  in  and  loved  the  form  of  government  prescribed  by  the 
Federal  Constitution,  and  the  constitution  of  the  Confederate 
States  was  in  all  relating  to  governmental  form  and  powers  a 
copy  of  that  instrument.  He  thoroughly  believed  in  the  sov 
ereignty  of  the  people,  in  the  strict  subordination  of  people 


GENERAL  BASIL   W.  DUKE  343 

and  magistracies  alike  to  law,  and  in  the  duty  of  every  one  in 
vested  with  official  authority  carefully  to  heed,  in  its  exercise, 
every  constitutional  mandate.  It  is  conceivable  that  in  the 
clearly  defined  limits  and  well-recognized  sphere  of  his  authority 
he  might  have  been  arbitrary  and  obstinate,  as  was  so  frequently 
charged;  but  for  no  consideration  would  he  have  usurped  power 
or  over  stepped  or  strained  the  law. 

Mr.  Davis  was  charged  with  favouritism  both  in  his  civil 
and  military  appointments.  This  is  an  accusation  so  generally 
preferred  by  disappointed  applicants  for  office  against  every  dis 
penser  of  patronage  that  little  heed  is  or  should  be  given  it. 
In  the  more  objectionable  sense  of  the  term  —  that  he  gave 
men  positions  merely  because  they  were  personally  friendly 
to  himself  —  there  was  little  truth  in  the  charge.  He  appointed 
soine  of  his  warmest  friends  to  high  office,  but  in  eyery  such  case 
the  appointees  were  men  of  unusual  merit  and  repute.  Two 
notable  instances  of  such  selections  for  militar  preferment  were 
Gen.  S.  S.  Cooper  and  Gen.  Albert  Sidney  Johnston.  But 
surely  the  most  captious  critic  would  admit  the  propriety  of 
heading  the  list  of  generals  with  officers  of  such  eminent  and 
acknowledged  ability  and  previously  excellent  records. 

Another  ascription,  as  frequently  and  perhaps  more  justly, 
made,  was  that  he  was  influenced  to  withhold  preferment  or 
promotion  by  his  prejudices.  He  could  never  forget  or  divest 
himself,  it  was  asserted,  of  his  ante-bellum  dislikes,  having  their 
origin  chiefly  in  political  difference. 

Few  men  occupying  such  a  station  as  he  did,  grave  as  are  its 
responsibilities,  can  regard  men  or  measures  with  purely  imper 
sonal  feeling,  and  Mr.  Davis  may,  in  some  instances  and  to 
some  extent,  have  been  controlled  by  hostile  or  antagonistic 
sentiment.  But  however  much  the  personal  equation  may  have 
influenced  him,  his  nature  was  too  frank  and  noble  to  cherish 
small  resentments,  and  it  is  more  probable  that  he  refused  what 
some  men  asked  because  he  thought  them  unworthy  or  incom 
petent,  than  because  he  bore  them  malice. 

It  has  been  said  that  Mr.  Davis  thought  he  possessed  more 
capacity  and  aptitude  for  military  than  for  civil  affairs.  There 
is  good  reason  to  believe  that,  in  this  estimate  of  himself,  he  was 
mistaken.  It  is  not  probable  that  as  field  captain,  personally 


344  REMINISCENCES  OF 

directing  military  operations  in  the  presence  of  the  enemy,  he 
would  have  been  successful. 

In  that  larger  region  of  strategy,  however,  in  which  he  was 
required  to  direct  as  ex  officio  comma nder-in-ch'ief  all  the  armies 
of  the  Confederacy,  suggesting  rather  than  planning  or  conduct 
ing  campaigns,  it  will  be  conceded  that  he  did  display  ability. 
If  he  had  not  the  qualities  which  constitute  sagacious  leadership 
in  the  field  or  the  tactical  skill  which  wins  battles,  he  was  a  wise 
adviser,  and  usually,  in  matters  of  dispute,  a  competent  arbiter. 

That  he  was  mistaken  in  his  estimate  of  certain  men,  over 
rating  some  and  underrating  others,  as  was  so  often  charged,  is 
unquestionably  true;  and  it  would  be  matter  for  wonder  if  it 
were  not  true.  Nevertheless,  the  roster  of  his  appointees,  civil 
and  military,  exhibits  the  names  of  men  certainly  above,  some 
far  above  the  average  in  personal  character  and  official  capacity. 
This  is  especially  true  of  his  appointments  in  the  army.  No 
military  service  the  world  has  ever  seen,  perhaps,  could  have 
shown  a  roll  of  officers  superior  to  those  who  served  the  Confed 
eracy.  That  he  gave  cordial  and  loyal  support  to  those  in 
command,  even  when  he  differed  with  them  in  opinion,  will  not 
be  denied. 

Whatever  feeling  of  disappointment  or  bitterness  any  one 
entertained  toward  Mr.  Davis  in  the  latter  days  of  the  struggle 
was  of  brief  duration,  and  was  completely  eliminated  by  his 
vicarious  punishment  and  suffering.  As  the  years  roll  on,  his 
people  understand  him  better  and  love  and  revere  him  more. 
The  sentiment  with  which  he  was  regarded  when  the  effort  for 
Southern  independence  was  inaugurated,  seems  to  have  returned 
in  greater  volume.  He  is  more  than  ever  regarded  as  the  best 
representative  of  the  true  meaning  of  that  aspiration.  He  is, 
even  more  than  when  he  lived  and  acted,  identified  in  the  popular 
mind  with  that  thrilling  and  heroic  episode  of  Southern  history; 
and  the  day  is  far  distant  when  his  name  shall  no  longer  be  vene 
rated  by  the  Southern  people. 

Almost  anything  that  is  written  about  Gen.  N.  B.  Forrest 
will  be  interesting  to  a  Southern  reader,  and  some  of  my  own 
recollections  of  him  may  prove  so.  I  knew  him  very  well,  and 
the  admiration  which,  in  common  with  all  who  are  familiar  with 


GENERAL  BASIL    W.  DUKE  345 

his  military  career,  I  entertain  for  his  extraordinary  qualities 
and  achievements  as  a  soldier,  is  equalled  by  the  warm  regard 
his  personal  character  inspired. 

My  acquaintance  with  General  Forrest  was  much  more  intimate 
after  than  before  the  war.  I  did  not  meet  him  very  often  at 
that  time,  and  to  my  great  regret,  never  had  an  opportunity  of 
seeing  him  in  battle.  My  first  recollection  of  him  is  when  he 
made  a  brief  visit  to  Bowling  Green  while  the  army  was  encamped 
about  that  place.  It  was  just  after  his  name  had  become  widely 
known  on  account  of  his  victory  at  Sacramento.  Shortly  after 
ward  I  saw  him  at  Nashville  during  the  exciting  scenes  of  Gen. 
Albert  Johnston's  retreat  and  the  evacuation  of  that  city.  He 
had  just  made  his  escape  from  Donelson,  bringing  off  his  regi 
ment  intact  from  that  disaster.  For  two  or  three  days  he  was 
busily  employed  in  policing  the  city  and  in  endeavouring  to 
restore  order,  a  very  difficult  task,  in  the  panic  and  wild  turmoil 
prevailing.  As  Morgan's  squadron  was  engaged  in  the  same 
duty,  I  had  a  good  chance  to  observe  how  he  performed  it,  and 
I  rather  think  that  a  number  of  those  with  whom  he  came  in 
contact  did  not  soon  forget  it.  I  well  remember  how  he  looked, 
his  resolute  face  seeming  to  subdue  all  he  gazed  on  to  his  will 
and  his  tall  powerful  form  towering  above  the  mob  which,  in  its 
most  furious  moments,  gave  way  before  him. 

Some  months  later  I  was  present  at  an  interview  between  him 
and  Morgan,  when  they  were  comparing  notes  of  their  respective 
expeditions  made  about  the  same  date  in  the  summer  of  1862, 
the  one  into  middle  Tennessee  and  the  other  into  Kentucky. 
Each  seemed  far  more  concerned  to  learn  what  the  other  had 
done  and  how  he  did  it,  than  to  relate  his  own  performances; 
and  it  was  interesting  to  note  the  brevity  with  which  they 
answered  each  other's  questions  and  the  eagerness  with  which 
they  asked  their  own.  It  was  upon  this  occasion  that  Forrest 
used  an  expression  which  has  been  very  often  quoted.  I  was  a 
good  deal  amused  by  it  at  the  time,  because  of  the  terse  way  in 
which  he  rendered  into  the  vernacular  a  proposition  which 
General  Beauregard  had  a  few  months  previously  clothed  in  very 
sonorous  and  academic  terms. 

Some  of  my  readers  may  perhaps  remember  the  letter  which 
Beauregard  wrote  to  Bragg  shortly  after  the  former  relinquished 


346  REMINISCENCES  OF 

and  the  latter  assumed  command  of  the  army  at  Tupelo.  Along 
with  other  excellent  counsel,  General  Beauregard  advised  his  suc 
cessor  to  "be  careful  always  to  move  by  interior  lines  and  strike 
the  fragments  of  your  enemy's  forces  with  the  masses  of  your 
own."  This  maxim  was  certainly  not  less  worthy  of  suggestion, 
because  Napoleon  had  previously  commended  it  as  comprising 
nearly  all  of  the  gospel  of  strategy.  It  was  new,  however,  to  the 
majority  of  the  Confederate  soldiers,  and  they  read  Beauregard 's 
letter  with  profound  admiration.  I  do  not  know,  therefore, 
whether  my  surprise  or  amusement  was  the  greater  when  I  heard 
Forrest,  in  this  conversation  with  Morgan,  unconsciously  para 
phrase  it  in  his  own  curt  and  peculiar  way. 

Morgan  wanted  particularly  to  know  about  his  fight  at  Mur- 
freesboro,  where  Forrest  had  accomplished  a  marked  success, 
capturing  garrispn  and  stores  and  carrying  off  every  thing,  al 
though  the  surrounding  country  was  filled  with  Federal  forces. 
Morgan  asked  how  it  was  done. 

"Oh,"  said  Forrest,  "I  just  took  the  short  cut  and  got  there 
first  with  the  most  men." 

I  did  not  meet  him  at  any  time  during  the  period  of  his  later 
and  most  brilliant  achievement,  but,  immediately  after  the 
close  of  the  war,  saw  him  quite  frequently  and  became  well 
acquainted  with  him.  After  a  fashion,  he  took  much  interest 
in  politics,  which  was,  I  believe,  purely  impersonal.  He  had 
no  thought,  so  far  as  I  could  discover  in  my  talks  with  him,  of 
any  advancement  or  benefit  for  himself.  Of  course,  during  the 
reconstruction  period,  more  especially  the  early  part  of  it,  there 
was  little  chance  of  an  ex-Confederate  obtaining  office  or  politi 
cal  position;  but  I  do  not  think  Forrest  at  any  time  desired  either 
the  honours  or  emoluments  of  political  office.  His  sole  concern 
seemed  to  be  to  relieve  his  people  from  the  terrible  and  oppres 
sive  conditions  under  which  they  so  grievously  suffered,  and  he 
went  about  that  work  with  the  same  ardour  and  indifference  to 
any  personal  hazard  which  characterized  him  in  his  military 
service.  It  was  generally  believed  that  he  was  the  chief  of 
"The  Invisible  Empire,"  that  mysterious  and  dreaded  associa 
tion  of  the  Ku  Klux,  created  to  counteract  and  hold  in  some  sort 
of  check  the  insolence  of  the  Loyal  League  and  other  similar 
negro  organizations,  and  the  unscrupulous  greed  of  the  carpet- 


GENERAL  BASIL    W.  DUKE  347 

baggers.  Secret  associations  of  this  character  do  not  exist 
without  some  real  and  strong  reason.  They  are  always  to  be 
deplored,  but  they  never  trouble  communities  in  which  law  is 
impartially  administered  and  the  rights  of  all  citizens  respected. 

No  candid  man,  who  is  familiar  with  the  social  and  political 
conditions  then  obtaining  in  the  Southern  states  will  deny  that 
the  organization  of  the  Ku  Klux  was  perfectly  justified,  or  that 
the  evils  such  abnormal  conditions  were  producing  could  be  met 
or  remedied  in  any  other  way.  While  the  suddenly  emancipated 
blacks  were  permitted  every  privilege  and  even  invested  with  a 
certain  authority,  the  Southern  whites  —  with  the  exception 
of  that  renegade  class  which  was  more  vicious  and  virulent  than 
the  carpet-baggers  themselves  —  were  deprived  of  all  rights, 
civil  and  political,  and  subjected,  with  no  means  or  hope  of  legal 
protection,  to  every  outrage  and  oppression  the  malice  of  their 
opponents  could  devise.  Such  a  people  would  never  tamely 
submit  to  either  the  injuries  or  insults  so  constantly  offered  them, 
and  in  the  absence  of  every  other  method  of  redress,  naturally, 
indeed  inevitably,  employed  force. 

But  situated  as  they  were,  force  could  not  be  openly  attempted, 
and,  as  has  always  been  the  case  under  similar  conditions,  resort 
was  also  had  to  strategem  and  disguise.  While  it  will  not  be 
denied  that,  under  the  very  provocation  of  the  situation  itself, 
brutal  violence  and  acts  of  cruelty  were  sometimes  committed 
by  the  Southern  whites  against  the  blacks,  and  in  some  instances, 
perhaps,  carried  farther  than  either  retaliation  or  example  war 
ranted,  it  has  been  always  claimed,  and  I  think  justly,  that  such 
things  were  seldom,  if  ever,  done  by  the  Ku  Klux  proper.  In 
this  respect  their  methods  seem  to  have  been  as  astute  as  they 
were  effective.  Thoroughly  understanding  the  character  of  the 
negro,  they  controlled  him  by  exciting  a  vague  apprehension  of 
violence  rather  than  by  its  actual  commission,  and  especially  by 
playing  upon  his  superstitions.  The  carpet-bagger  became 
impotent  when  his  negro  allies  were  frightened  into  docility  and 
good  behavior. 

Whether  Forrest  was  or  was  not  at  the  head  of  "The  Invisible 
Empire,"  it  is  certain  that  no  man  could  have  more  ably  and 
successfully  conducted  its  operations.  He  had  the  skill  to  direct 
its  deliberations  and  actions,  although  necessarily  involved 


348  REMINISCENCES  OF 

in  the  profoundest  reticence  and  secrecy,  and  keep  them  strictly 
within  the  sphere  of  the  prescribed  purposes;  he  had  as  well  the 
energy  and  force  of  character  which  could  compel  obedience 
even  in  such  an  association,  although  invested  with  no  actual 
and  legitimate  authority. 

Forrest  was  a  delegate  to  the  first  Democratic  Presidential 
convention  which  assembled  after  the  war,  that  which  nominated 
Seymour.  I  witnessed  an  incident  on  our  way  to  New  York 
which  very  well  illustrated  his  capacity  to  intimidate  men  not 
supposed  to  be  subject  to  such  influences.  A  number  of  us  from 
Tennessee  and  Kentucky  were  in  the  same  coach.  When  the 
train  reached  some  town,  the  name  of  which  I  have  forgotten, 
it  stopped  before  pulling  up  at  the  depot  at  a  water  tank  a 
short  distance  below. 

The  train  conductor,  who  had  been  a  Federal  soldier  and  was 
a  very  fine,  manly  young  fellow,  with  whom  we  had  all  fraternized 
readily,  came  to  me  at  this  point  and  said  that  he  apprehended 
some  trouble  when  we  reached  the  depot.  He  had  just  been 
informed,  he  said,  that  a  crowd,  having  learned  that  Forrest 
was  on  the  train,  had  collected  there,  and  that  the  town  bully, 
a  very  truculent  fellow,  was  loudly  proclaiming  his  intention  to 
take  him  off  the  train  and  thrash  him.  The  conductor  did  not 
believe  that  the  crowd  was  disposed  to  back  the  bully  in  such 
attempt,  but  thought  it  had  assembled  merely  out  of  curiosity. 
But  he  was  apprehensive  that  in  the  excitement  some  of  them, 
who  had  formed  no  such  previous  intention,  might  render  him 
assistance,  and  then,  as  we  would  certainly  stand  by  Forrest,  a 
serious  riot  might  occur. 

"Now,"  he  said,  "if  anything  of  the  kind  happens,  I'm 
going  to  side  with  you  men  and  give  you  all  the  help  I  can.  I 
don't  like  this  sort  of  thing,  and,  moreover, it's  my  duty  to  protect 
my  passengers  so  far  as  I  can.  But  let's  have  no  trouble  if  it 
can  be  avoided.  I  want  you  therefore  to  advise  General  Forrest 
to  remain  in  the  coach,  where,  if  it  comes  to  a  fight,  we  can  make 
the  best  showing,  anyhow,  and  not  go  out  on  the  platform,  no 
matter  what  that  fellow  says  or  does." 

The  conductor  said  further  that  he  believed  the  man  would 
seek  a  quarrel,  inasmuch  as  he  was  a  noted  fighter  and  had  never 
met  his  match. 


GENERAL  BASIL    W.  DUKE  349 

I  immediately  communicated  the  information  to  Forrest, 
and  advised  that  he  act  as  the  conductor  suggested.  He  received 
the  news  very  calmly,  being  too  much  accustomed  to  affairs  of 
that  kind  to  become  excited,  and  agreed  to  the  programme  as 
indicated.  But  when  the  train  stopped  at  the  depot  the  bully 
immediately  sprang  upon  the  platform  and  entered  our  coach. 
He  was  a  very  powerful  man  in  appearance,  larger  than  Forrest, 
and  I  believe  meant  to  execute  his  threat  up  to  the  time  that  he 
caught  sight  of  the  party  he  was  looking  for.  As  he  entered 
the  door  he  called  out  loudly:  "Where's  that  d  —  d  butcher, 
Forrest?  I  want  him." 

I  never  in  my  life  witnessed  such  an  instantaneous  and  marvel 
lous  transformation  in  any  one's  appearance  as  then  occurred 
with  Forrest.  He  bounded  from  his  seat,  his  form  erect  and 
dilated,  his  face  the  colour  of  heated  bronze,  and  his  eyes  flaming, 
blazing.  He  strode  rapidly  down  the  aisle  toward  the  approach 
ing  champion,  his  gait  and  manner  evincing  perfect,  invincible 
determination. 

"I  am  Forrest,"  he  said.     "What  do  you  want?" 

The  bully  gave  one  look.  His  purpose  evaporated,  and  when 
Forrest  had  gotten  within  three  or  four  feet  of  him,  he  turned 
and  rushed  out  of  the  coach  faster  than  he  had  entered.  Forrest 
followed  him  into  the  midst  of  the  crowd  outside,  vainly  shouting 
to  him  to  stop,  and  several  of  us  followed  Forrest.  But  the  man 
whose  prowess  that  crowd  had  gathered  to  witness  had  no 
thought  of  holding  his  ground.  He  darted  into  and  down  the 
street  with  quarterhorse  speed,  losing  his  hat  in  his  hurry,  and 
vanished  around  a  corner.  Then  the  humour  of  the  thing  struck 
Forrest  and  he  burst  into  a  great  shout  of  laughter.  In  a  few 
moments  the  entire  crowd  joined  in  his  merriment  and  seemed 
to  be  in  complete  sympathy  with  him,  many  of  them  pressing 
forward  to  shake  hands  with  him.  When  the  train  five  minutes 
later  pulled  out,  Forrest  was  standing  on  the  platform  receiving 
the  cheers  and  plaudits  of  the  multitude  and  gracefully  waving 
his  thanks  to  his  new  friends  and  admirers. 

Forrest  attracted  a  great  deal  of  attention  at  the  Democratic 
convention  of  1868,  not  only  from  the  delegates  but  from  the 
large  crowd  assembled  to  witness  its  deliberations.  Having 
had  no  practice  as  a  speaker  and  unfamiliar  with  parliamentary 


350  REMINISCENCES  OF 

methods,  he  took  little  part,  of  course,  in  its  more  public  pro 
ceedings;  but  his  counsel,  as  one  who  knew  the  sentiment  of  the 
Southern  people  and  perfectly  possessed  their  confidence,  was 
sought  and  heeded  by  the  Democratic  leaders.  There  was  also 
a  very  lively  curiosity  entertained  by  people  generally  to  see  one 
whose  career  in  the  Civil  War  had  been  so  remarkable  and  the 
remembrance  of  which  was  yet  recent. 

As  I  have  already  said  he  took  much  interest  in  politics  at 
that  time,  and,  so  far  as  a  man  in  his  situation  could  do,  tried 
to  influence  the  course  of  political  events.  His  efforts  were  at 
first  directed,  necessarily,  almost  solely  to  the  restoration  of  the 
autonomy  of  his  state,  and,  when  that  seemed  impossible,  he 
took  the  ground  that  any  means  of  opposing  grievous,  immediate 
oppression  were  justifiable.  His  very  active  service  in  the  latter 
part  of  the  war  had  made  his  name  familiar  and  peculiarly  offen 
sive  to  the  Northern  people,  and  when  he  became  conspicuous 
in  the  reconstruction  era  he  received  a  double  share  of  criticism 
from  the  orators  and  editors  who  were  then  especially  engaged  in 
censure  or  vituperation  of  everything  Southern. 

In  one  such  case  the  affair  which  at  first  seemed  to  threaten 
tragic  consequences  terminated  almost  in  a  comedy.  Among 
those  who  reflected  on  Forrest  most  severely  during  the  Presi 
dential  campaign  of  1868,  was  the  famous  Federal  cavalry  officer, 
General  Kilpatrick.  Kilpatrick,  who  had  been  very  busy  as  a 
lecturer  after  his  service  in  the  army  was  concluded,  took  the 
stump  for  the  Republican  ticket  during  that  canvass  and  made 
stump  speeches  in  all  of  the  Eastern  states.  In  some  of  these 
speeches  he  charged  Forrest  with  the  commission  of  man^ 
atrocities,  and  among  other  things  said  that  Forrest  had  on  one 
occasion  tied  a  number  of  negroes  to  a  plank  fence  and  had  then 
set  fire  to  the  fence.  This  remarkable  accusation  could  hardly 
have  been  credited  even  by  the  most  prejudiced,  for  even  had 
Forrest  been  a  cruel  man,  which  —  although  very  fierce  when 
his  wrath  was  'excited  —  was  not  his  temper,  he  would  certainly 
never  have  wasted  the  time  necessary  to  burn  "niggers"  in  so 
elaborate  a  fashion.  It  is  probable  that  Forrest  would  have  given 
no  notice  to  this  charge,  if  it  had  not  been  especially  brought 
to  his  attention  in  a  way  which  he  thought  demanded  that  he 
resent  it. 


GENERAL  BASIL   W.  DUKE  351 

Another  Federal  general,  of  Connecticut  if  I  remember 
correctly,  a  very  gallant  man,  and  one  who  gravely  disap 
proved  of  such  attacks  upon  his  former  opponents  as  Kilpatrick 
was  making,  not  only  remonstrated  with  the  latter,  but  sent 
a  copy  of  one  of  the  speeches  to  Forrest  with  a  letter  ex 
pressing  his  disbelief  in  the  story  and  his  condemnation  of  its 
publication.  Forrest,  upon  receipt  of  this  communication,  felt 
obliged  to  call  Kilpatrick  to  account,  and  he  accordingly  wrote 
him  an  open  letter,  published  in  one  of  the  Memphis  papers. 
The  letter  was  a  long  one,  and  in  no  degree  less  severe  than  the 
effusion  which  had  provoked  it.  On  the  contrary,  he  explicitly 
set  forth  his  opinion  of  General  Kilpatrick' s  utterances  and  of 
that  gentleman's  general  character  and  "style"  in  very  vigorous 
English,  and  in  terms  which  very  nearly  exhausted  the  retaliative 
possibilities  of  the  language.  This  letter  was  of  course  very 
widely  published,  and  I  read  it  a  day  or  two  later  in  the  Louisville 
Courier- Journal.  I  sympathized  of  course  with  Forrest,  but  was 
somewhat  amused  at  the  indignation  he  expressed,  for  I  supposed 
that  he  had  become  so  much  accustomed  to  such  attacks  as  to 
regard  them  with  indifference.  My  admiration  was  also  aroused 
by  his  eloquent  and  comprehensive  treatment  of  the  subject, 
and  the  forcible  way  in  which  he  explained  to  Kilpatrick  what 
he  thought  of  him  and  of  his  conduct,  and  the  many  forms  in 
which  he  impugned  his  veracity.  The  conclusion  of  the  letter, 
however,  struck  me  with  consternation.  Forrest  wound  up  this 
communication  by  requesting  General  Kilpatrick  to  consider  it  a 
challenge  to  combat;  the  peculiar  conditions  then  -  prevailing 
might  excuse,  he  thought,  a  more  regular  and  formal  transmis 
sion  of  such  a  cartel,  but  he  expressed  the  hope  that  Kilpatrick 
would  waive  all  that  and  immediately  communicate  with  his 
(Forrest's)  friend,  Gen.  Basil  W.  Duke,  at  Louisville,  who  would 
be  authorized  to  make,  on  Forrest's  part,  all  necessary  arrange 
ments  for  the  meeting. 

I  was  flattered  by  Forrest's  selection  of  me  as  his  friend  in 
this  affair,  and  at  one  time  would  have  acted  with  alacrity  and 
even  a  certain  degree  of  pleasure.  But  just  then  the  thought  of 
having  to  act  as  either  second  or  principal  in  a  duel  was  not  at  all 
agreeable.  The  laws  of  Kentucky  against  duelling  were  then, 
as  now,  extremely  severe.  The  constitution  provided  that  any 


352  REMINISCENCES  OF 

citizen  of  Kentucky  who  participated  in  such  an  affair  in  any 
capacity  within  the  borders  of  the  state  should  be  virtually  dis 
franchised,  and  if  he  were  a  lawyer  should  be  debarred  from 
practising  his  profession  until  pardoned,  and  the  governor  was 
inhibited  the  exercise  of  the  pardoning  power  in  such  cases  until 
the  expiration  of  five  years  after  the  commission  of  the  offence. 
The  statutes  passed  to  execute  the  constitutional  provision  were 
very  drastic. 

I  had  come  out  of  the  war  with  a  ready-made  family  and  no 
visible  means  of  support,  and  had  begun  the  practice  of  law  in 
Louisville.  My  prospects  in  that  line  were  not  brilliant,  it  is 
true,  but  were  all  that  I  had,  and  I  was  exceedingly  loath  to  relin 
quish  even  a  very  small  chance  of  making  a  living.  The  particu 
lar  difficulty  I  contemplated  might  have  been  obviated  by  having 
the  duel  fought  somewhere  else  than  in  Kentucky;  but  I  was 
unwilling  on  Forrest's  account  that  it  should  occur  elsewhere. 
I  feared  that  he  would  not  get  fair  play  anywhere  north  of  the 
Ohio  river.  The  entire  South  was  still  under  military  rule  and 
occupied  by  Federal  soldiers,  and  while  I  believed  that  the  inclin 
ation  of  the  soldiers  —  officers  and  men  —  would  be  in  favour 
of  a  fair  fight,  I  feared  that  those  in  authority  would  feel  obliged 
to  interfere  and  deal  pretty  harshly  with  all  engaged  in  such  an 
affair,  which,  on  account  of  the  prominence  of  the  principals, 
would  certainly  excite  interest  and  comment  throughout  the 
country.  In  Kentucky,  however,  both  men  would  have  friends 
and  sympathizers,  and  the  general  sentiment  would  be  that  they 
should  fight  "in  peace,"  without  partisan  or  impertinent  inter 
ference.  The  law  would  not  take  cognizance  of  such  a  matter 
between  gentlemen  until  it  was  over,  and  then  to  deal  only  with 
citizens  of  Kentucky  in  the  way  I  have  indicated.  I  made  up 
my  mind,  therefore,  that  while  General  Kilpatrick  was  undoubt 
edly  entitled  to  designate  the  place  of  meeting,  I  would  use  every 
effort  to  have  it  come  off  in  Kentucky. 

On  the  same  day  I  received  a  letter  from  Forrest  in  which 
he  said  that  I  would  probably  soon  hear  from  Kilpatrick,  and 
that  he  wished  me  to  arrange  a  meeting  as  soon  as  possible. 
He  went  on  to  say  that  he  recognized  Kilpatrick's  right  to  name 
"time,  place,  and  weapons,"  and  that  he  was  prepared,  of 
course,  to  accede  to  any  terms  the  latter  might  designate;  but, 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  353 

inasmuch  as  they  had  both  been  cavalry  men,  he  thought  it 
would  be  highly  appropriate  to  fight  mounted  and  with  sabres. 

I  at  once  replied  that  any  communication  from  General  Kil- 
patrick  should  receive  immediate  and  proper  attention. 

Although  I  was  resolved  to  assist  Forrest  in  every  way  I  could 
in  such  an  emergency,  and  to  act  in  any  way  that  he  desired,  I 
still  hoped  that,  in  some  way,  I  might  be  relieved  of  direct  par 
ticipation  in  the  duel,  such  participation  as  would  subject  me  to 
the  penalties  of  which  I  have  spoken.  I  determined,  therefore, 
to  enlist  some  expert  in  such  affairs,  whose  services  might  be 
agreeable  to  Forrest,  and  who  might  act  in  my  stead  when  the 
period  of  actual  hostilities  should  arrive.  It  was  necessary,  of 
course,  to  select  some  one  who  was  not  a  citizen  of  Kentucky 
and  who  would  be  exempt  from  the  consequences  which  I  feared 
for  myself.  After  due  reflection,  I  concluded  to  ask  the  aid  of 
Dr.  James  Keller,  then  living  in  St.  Louis  and  a  citizen  of  Missouri, 
who  was  an  acknowledged  authority  on  the  duello  and  a  warm 
friend  of  Forrest,  as  well  as  of  myself.  I  accordingly  wired  the 
doctor,  stating  the  case  and  asking  his  valuable  assistance. 
It  is  difficult,  of  course,  after  the  flight  of  so  many  years,  to  re 
member  perfectly  just  how  every  thing  occurred,  but  I  think 
that  the  doctor  was  in  Louisville  and  ready  for  business  before 
the  instrument  ceased  clicking. 

In  the  meantime,  mindful  of  the  wish  that  Forrest  had  ex 
pressed  to  fight  on  horseback,  I  was  desirous  of  providing  him 
with  a  suitable  mount,  and  with  that  view  called  on  Capt.  Bart 
Jenkins,  formerly  of  the  Fourth  Kentucky  Confederate  cavalry, 
who  then  kept  a  livery  stable  in  Louisville,  and  would,  I  was 
quite  sure,  have  at  his  disposal  a  number  of  fine  horses.  Cap 
tain  Jenkins  was  a  thorough  fighting  man,  as  well  as  ardent 
Confederate,  and  I  knew  he  would  feel  a  profound  interest  in 
the  matter  in  hand.  When  I  reached  the  captain's  place,  I  was 
informed  that  he  was  very  ill  but  that  I  could  see  him.  I  was 
taken  up  stairs  to  a  small  room  above  his  office,  where  he  was 
lying  on  a  lounge  looking  like  an  exceedingly  sick  man.  In 
response  to  my  inquiry  regarding  his  condition,  he  responded 
in  a  voice  scarcely  louder  than  a  whisper  that  he  had  pneumonia, 
was  so  weak  that  he  could  not  rise  from  his  couch,  and  would 
not  be  surprised  if  the  attack  terminated  fatally.  After  express- 


354  REMINISCENCES  OF 

ing  due  sorrow  and  sympathy,  I  said  that  I  had  called  to  talk 
with  him  about  the  affair  between  Forrest  and  Kilpatrick,  but, 
under  the  circumstances,  could,  of  course,  pretermit  it. 

"No,  you  won't,"  he  said,  his  voice  perceptibly  stronger; 
"I  want  to  hear  about  that." 

"Oh,  well,  Forrest  wants  to  fight  on  horseback  with 
sabres ': 

"That's  right,"  he  interrupted,  and  rose  to  a  sitting  position, 
"that's  right." 

"So  I  have  come  around  here  to  consult  you  and  see  if  I 
couldn't  get  him  a  good  horse." 

"You  just  can,"  he  declared  in  a  perfectly  normal  tone. 
"I've  got  the  very  animal  you  want,"  and  with  that  he  got  out 
of  bed  and  began  to  put  on  his  clothes. 

"Don't  do  that,  Bart,"  I  said,  ' 'you've  just  told  me  that  the 
doctor  insists  that  you  shall  be  very  careful." 

"The  doctor  be  d  —  d,"  he  replied.  "Do  you  think  I'll  let 
a  doctor  interfere  with  important  business  of  this  kind.  I  want 
to  show  you  my  brown  mare,  the  finest  in  the  state  and  has 
taken  the  blue  ribbon  at  every  fair  in  central  Kentucky.  She's 
sixteen  hands  high,  built  just  right  for  a  man  of  Forrest's  weight, 
and  as  quick  on  her  feet  as  a  cat.  Place  the  men  sixty  yards 
apart,  and  tell  Forrest  that  when  you  give  the  word  he  must 
drive  in  the  spurs  and  ride  straight  at  the  other  horse.  She'll 
knock  him  off  of  his  feet,  and  Forrest  can  cut  off  Kilpatrick's 
head  before  he  touches  the  ground.  But  —  I  must  see  the  fight." 

Disregarding  every  remonstrance,  he  took  me  to  the  stable 
to  inspect  the  mare,  which  was,  indeed,  a  very  fine  one. 

But  the  duel  was  not  fought.  I  received  no  communication 
from  General  Kilpatrick,  which  was  entirely  to  my  satisfaction  if 
not  to  Forrest's.  General  Kilpatrick,  after  some  delay,  published 
a  statement  in  the  Eastern  papers  to  the  effect  that  he  could  not 
afford  to  accept  Forrest's  challenge,  inasmuch  as  a  committee 
of  congress  appointed  to  investigate  the  alleged  massacre  of 
negroes  at  Fort  Pillow,  had  declared  him  guilty,  and  he  (Kilpat 
rick)  could  not  therefore  regard  him  as  a  gentleman. 

General  Shackelford,  the  officer  who  first  called  Forrest's 
attention  to  Kilpatrick's  charges,  published  a  letter  in  response 
to  Kilpatrick's,  in  which  he  took  the  ground  that  while  the 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  355 

report  of  a  congressional  committee  might  be  pertinent  and 
valuable  for  many  purposes,  no  one  could  consider  it  conclusive 
of  a  man's  standing  as  a  gentleman;  and  he  strongly  urged  Kil- 
patrick  to  meet  Forrest  after  having  wantonly  assailed  him. 
I  have  always  thought  that  if  Shackelford  could  by  any  possi 
bility  have  been  substituted  for  Kilpatrick,  there  would  certainly 
have  been  a  fight. 

I  met  Forrest  very  infrequently  in  the  latter  part  of  his  life. 
The  last  time  I  saw  him  he  was  so  broken  by  illness  and  had 
aged  so  greatly  that  I  scarcely  recognized  him.  I  have  hea*rd 
that  he  became  deeply  religious  shortly  before  his  death,  but 
retained  to  the  last  the  keen  sagacity  and  indomitable  spirit 
which  had  ever  characterized  him. 

The  enthusiasts  who  are  convinced  that  the  time  is  near  at 
hand  when  war  will  no  more  plague  the  human  race  and  the 
ultima  ratio  regum  shall  give  place  to  a  milder  logic  have  had 
much  encouragement  recently,  in  so  far  as  expressions  of  approval 
may  be  regarded  as  an  aid  in  their  work. 

Undoubtedly,  one  of  the  noblest  ideas  humanity  has  ever 
cherished  is  this  hope  of  universal  and  perpetual  peace;  a  compact 
of  amity  which  shall  include  all  mankind,  bidding  "the  war  drum 
throb  no  longer"  and  binding  the  whole  world  in  a  federation 
obedient  to  canons  of  brotherhood  and  good  will. 

Nevertheless  most  of  us  are  compelled,  reluctantly,  to  believe 
that  it  is  something  humanity  will  find  scarcely  possible  of 
attainment;  at  least  until  it  is  reconstructed,  or  developed  and 
educated  into  conditions  very  different  from  those  it  knows  and 
feels  now.  Indeed,  even  in  quite  modern  history,  and  since  peace 
congresses  and  courts  of  national  arbitration  have  been  in  evi 
dence,  we  have  witnessed  periods  when  the  dream  of  universal 
empire  accomplished  by  armed  force,  has  seemed  a  more  prob 
able  realization. 

It  is  not  at  all  likely,  of  course,  that  such  danger  will  come, 
as  of  yore,  from  the  fury  of  some  insanely  ambitious  conqueror, 
although  less  than  one  hundred  years  ago  Napoleon  roused  a 
very  lively  apprehension  that  he  was  about  to  emulate  in  this 
respect  the  record  of  his  prototypes  of  antiquity.  It  is  too  late  in 
the  life  of  the  world  for  the  individual,  the  personal  equation,  to 


356  REMINISCENCES  OF 

count  for  so  much.  But  there  does,  at  times,  seem  danger  that 
some  overweeningly  strong  and  imperial  people,  selfish  as  the 
strong  and  the  energetic  usually  are,  may  attempt  something 
of  the  kind,  urged  on  by  greed  of  wide  reaching  dominion  and 
consequent  commercial  supremacy. 

The  better  spirit  of  each  successive  age  is  more  averse  to  strife 
and  bloodshed.  A  cosmopolitan  opinion,  constantly  growing 
stronger,  exalts  the  victories  of  peace  above  those  of  war.  The 
profession  of  the  soldier,  although  still  honourable,  is  not  held 
in  so  high  esteem  as  in  the  past,  and  military  glory  loses  something 
of  its  glamour.  Yet  we  are  frequently  reminded  that  man  — 
even  civilized  and  educated  man  —  is  a  pugnacious  animal. 
To  bear  arms  is  no  longer  popular  as  a  trade;  conquests  are  not 
made  merely  that  the  conquered  countries  may  be  given  over 
to  plunder  and  oppression,  or  swell  some  already  overgrown 
and  arrogant  power;  nations  are  not  so  prone  to  "go  to  war 
for  an  idea,"  as  the  French  formerly  phrased  it.  But  when  their 
material  interests  are  involved,  or  even  when  their  pride  is  in 
sulted  or  their  passions  really  aroused,  modern  men  seem  to  be 
nearly  if  not  quite  as  ready  to  fight  as  were  their  ancestors. 

Just  before  the  French  Revolution,  notwithstanding  quite 
recent  and  striking  examples  that  might  have  taught  a  contrary 
opinion,  the  philosophers  —  and  many  believed  them  —  were 
predicting  that  humanity  had  lost,  or  was  in  a  way  to  lose,  its 
lust  for  combat  and  carnage,  and  a  millennial  era  of  love  and 
peace  was  about  to  dawn.  While  listening  fondly  to  these  prom 
ises,  the  world  was  astounded  by  the  outburst  of  the  great 
revolution,  and  those  years  of  terror  were  immediately  succeeded 
by  the  Napoleonic  wars,  devastating  all  Europe. 

Then  there  was  a  lull  in  hostilities  for  the  life  of  a  generation; 
no  great  wars,  at  least,  disturbed  the  earth  during  that  period. 

But  it  would  seem  that  the  race  was  only  resting,  like  prize 
fighters  between  rounds.  The  stock  of  pugnacity  had  been  too 
heavily  drawn  on,  and  thirty  years  or  more  were  required  for 
recuperation.  After  some  comparatively  small  affairs,  like  our 
war  with  Mexico,  and  some  rather  inocuous  preliminaries  on 
the  other  side  of  the  water,  the  great  events  were  rapidly  brought 
on.  The  Crimean  War,  the  Sepoy  Rebellion,  the  war  between 
France  and  Italy  on  the  one  side  and  Austria  on  the  other, 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  357 

the  tremendous  conflict  in  this  country,  the  war  between 
Austria  and  Prussia,  and  the  Franco-Prussian  War  followed  in 
quick  succession. 

After  this  the  hopes  of  the  evangelists  of  peace  were  less  san 
guine,  and  their  reputations  as  forecasters  of  coming  conditions 
were  considerably  impaired;  but,  greatly  to  their  credit,  their 
purpose  was  in  no  wise  daunted  nor  their  zeal  abated. 

Among  governments  and  people  both,  however,  the  effect 
of  these  conflicts,  induced  by  no  reasons  which,  judged  by  pre 
vious  standards,  would  have  been  peculiarly  serious,  was  to  pro 
duce  the  impression  that  war,  at  all  times  probable,  might  often 
be  imminent.  An  immense  stimulus  consequently  was  given  to 
the  preparation  for  war.  Not  only  was  every  attention  and 
effort  given  to  improvement  in  arms,  ordnance,  and  equipment, 
but  standing  armies,  larger  than  any  previously  known,  were 
maintained  by  every  European  power,  and,  to  a  certain  extent, 
all  over  the  world;  while  the  reserves,  the  land  wehr,  the  militia, 
as  we  call  such  forces  here,  and  volunteers,  as  they  are  termed  in 
England,  were  organized  in  vast  numbers  and  provided  with 
all  the  necessary  equipment  for  field  service.  These  reserve 
troops  constitute  in  themselves  formidable  armies. 

The  status  and  relative  strength  of  the  European  powers  were 
greatly  changed  by  these  wars,  and  with  each  such  change  new 
complications  arose,  threatening  fresh  conflict.  Italy,  shaking 
off  the  grasp  of  Austria,  became  a  united  and  independent  country 
after  centuries  of  division  and  subjection  to  both  domestic  and 
foreign  despotism;  and  was  counted  a  factor  in  the  great  game 
played  with  armies.  France  rose  apparently  to  the  first  place 
as  a  military  power,  but  met  crushing  defeat  from  Germany; 
and  Germany  and  Russia  became  alternately  the  dread  of  the 
nations. 

But  a  few  years  ago  it  seemed  that  England  and  Russia  would 
inevitably  fight  for  the  possession  of  India,  the  dominion  of  Asia 
and  its  vast  populations,  the  trade  and  wealth  of  the  East.  There 
was  reason  to  fear  that  such  a  contest  might  involve  Europe  and 
ultimately  the  whole  world;  for  when  England,  mistress  of  the 
seas  and  so  powerful  in  the  realm  of  commerce  and  finance,  goes 
to  war  with  an  opponent  which  can  match  her  power  and  really 
threaten  her  safety,  the  shock  may  unsettle  the  peace  of  the  earth. 


358  REMINISCENCES  OF 

All  mankind  must  feel  it.  Every  people  will,  in  some  way,  have 
brought  home  to  them  the  realization  that  the  great  power 
which  dictates  the  trade  of  the  globe  and  governs  values  all 
over  it  is  straining  every  nerve  to  maintain  the  domination 
so  long  and  so  widely  exerted.  More  than  two  hundred  millions 
of  Asiatics  who  live  under  her  rule,  are  subjects  of  her  flag 
and  make  part  of  her  immense  empire,  will  feel  when  she  arms 
for  such  a  conflict  that  the  fate  of  themselves  and  their  posterity 
is  at  stake.  From  America,  Canada,  Australia,  many  millions 
more,  some  of  whom  owe  her  no  allegiance,  but  are  connected 
with  her  hardy  race  by  blood  and  tradition,  speaking  her  language 
and  inheriting  in  some  form  her  institutions  —  will  look  on  the 
struggle  with  scarcely  less  of  interest. 

At  the  date  when  this  conflict  between  England  and  Russia 
was  imminent,  it  was  believed  by  those  most  competent  to  judge 
accurately  in  such  a  matter  that,  upon  the  ground  where  it  would 
be  waged,  Russia  would  prove  a  match  for  England.  While 
much  was  reported,  even  at  that  time,  of  the  corrupt  practices 
and  inefficiency  of  the  Russian  civil  officials,  few  knew  or  sus 
pected  that  a  similar  demoralization  had  extended  throughout 
the  huge  armies  of  Russia,  injuriously  affecting  the  capacity  and 
temperament  of  the  officers  and  the  discipline  of  the  men.  Nor 
was  it  understood  how  desperate  and  wide-spread  was  the  feeling 
of  political  discontent,  the  spirit  of  revolt,  in  Russia,  frequent 
and  energetic  as  had  been  its  demonstration.  The  war  with 
Japan  disclosed  the  dry  rot  which  was  sapping  her  military 
strength;  the  reverses  in  Manchuria  encouraged  the  Nihilist  to 
measures  which  really  menaced  official  authority  and  paralyzed 
national  effort.  It  may  have  been  a  premonition  of  these  dangers 
that  prevented  Russia  from  striking  the  blow  at  England  which 
she  undoubtedly  meditated,  even  when  such  an  opportunity 
as  the  Boer  War  was  offered  her. 

War  between  England  and  Russia,  however,  is  only  postponed, 
provided  the  latter  shall  be  able  to  compose  her  domestic  trouble 
and  recover  her  prestige  in  Manchuria.  It  is  the  more  probable, 
if  the  rumours  of  the  almost  universal  disaffection  of  the  native 
population  in  India  be  true. 

And  now  Japan  has  bounded  into  the  arena,  a  fully  panoplied 
"world"  power,"  and  one  that  has  fairly  earned  the  title.  What 


GENERAL   BASIL  W.  DUKE  359 

Japan  holds  she  will  keep,  and  perhaps  go  after  more  although 
she  is  scarcely  so  formidable  nor  so  aggressive  as  some  hysterical 
folk  would  have  us  believe.  Her  example  has  infected  and 
aroused  even  sluggish  China;  and  wise  men  who  profess  to  under 
stand  the  Orient  are  babbling  about  the  "yellow  peril." 

All  this  bodes  ill  to  the  blessed  and  universal  peace  which  good 
people  preach  and  other  people  will  not  consent  to  practise. 

The  best  chance  for  the  peace  so  devoutly  hoped  for  is  to  be 
found  in  the  fact  that  modern  ideas  of  economy,  if  not  of  morality, 
may  be  arrayed  against  war.  Not  only  is  the  disturbance  of 
commerce  and  destruction  of  values  wrought  by  warfare  more 
alarming  than  ever  before,  but  the  absolute  cost  of  modern 
weapons,  ordnance,  and  ammunition,  the  use  of  modern  improved 
methods  of  attack  and  defence,  is  something  appalling.  The 
Roman  legionary  used  a  sword  made  by  an  ordinary  blacksmith. 
The  veteran  spearman  of  Hannibal  did  good  work  with  a  strong 
lance,  tipped  with  a  few  cents  worth  of  iron.  The  English  archers 
dealt  death  with  bows  of  yew.  The  soldiers  of  Frederic  fought 
with  the  clumsy  musket  and  bayonet  of  their  time,  and  the 
soldiers  of  Gustavus  with  weapons  of  earlier  make  and  more 
awkward  pattern. 

Modern  soldiery  are  furnished  with  weapons  of  a  very  differ 
ent  type,  the  arms  of  precision,  the  rifle  whose  range  has  scarcely 
a  limit;  but  if  the  trajectory  is  fit  the  price  of  the  implement 
is  correspondingly  high.  The  expense  of  modern  ordnance,  of 
all  modern  military  material,  is  far  greater  than  was  that  of  such 
material  formerly.  The  warship  of  to-day  costs  more  than  half 
a  dozen  squadrons  of  the  old  wooden  frigates,  and  the  cost  of 
ammunition  expended  by  two  or  three  modern  batteries  in  one 
battle  will  probably  represent  a  sum  that  would  have  equipped 
an  average  mediaeval  army. 

The  progress  of  invention  and  improvement  in  the  appliances 
of  warfare  will  necessarily  still  further  increase  its  cost  and 
render  military  expenditures  yet  more  extravagant.  In  this 
fact  is  to  be  found  the  best  hope  that  war  may  some  day  cease; 
but  judging  the  future  by  the  past,  even  that  hope  is  slender. 
Courts  of  arbitration  and  peace  congresses  are  excellent  in 
theory  and  purpose;  but  their  decrees  would  have  little  more 
effect  than  treaties,  and  would  avail  little  against  superior  and 


36o  GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE 

unscrupulous  force.  If,  by  some  adequate  device,  the  instinct 
and  the  energies  which  urge  mankind  to  warfare,  could  be  di 
verted  into  some  other  field  of  effort,  affording  like  satisfaction  to 
that  craving  for  contest  which  war  seems  to  furnish,  actual 
bloodshed  might  be  avoided.  But  how  and  by  whom  can 
such  substitute  be  suggested  or  induced?  I  rather  think  it  is 
best  to  be  prepared  for  war. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

A  GREAT   deal    has    been    written    about    the    treatment 
of  the   prisoners  captured  on  both   sides    in   our  Civil 
War,  and   enough   has   been  told    to  demonstrate   that 
the  lot  of  the  prisoner  was  not  a  pleasant  one;  that,  indeed,  the 
hardships   endured   in   captivity  were   harsher   and    harder   to 
bear  than  those  suffered  by  the  soldier  in  the  field.     I  have  al 
ways  believed  that   more  fortitude  was   required   of  the  Con 
federate  soldier,  subjected  to  a  long  term  of  imprisonment,  to 
remain  faithful  to  his  cause  than  the  severest  strain  of  active 
service  demanded. 

It  is  not  my  purpose,  and  would,  doubtless,  now  be  inappro 
priate,  to  revive  a  discussion,  once  prevalent,  regarding  whose 
fault  it  was  that  so  many  brave  men  of  both  armies  were  com 
pelled  to  endure  an  incarceration  so  tedious  and  painful,  and  ap 
parently  so  unnecessary;  nor  shall  I  allude  to  the  cruelties  which 
each  side  accused  the  other  of  having  inflicted'.  No  one  cares  now, 
I  presume,  to  listen  to  such  recitals.  But  many  things  could  be 
related  of  that  prison  life  which  need  not  arouse  unpleasant 
memories;  many  of  its  traits  and  incidents  which  could,  perhaps, 
interest  and  amuse  the  reader  of  to-day,  especially  the  devices 
and  expedients  by  which  the  unfortunates  sought  to  forget  or 
alleviate  the  terrible  monotony  and  tedium  of  their  condition. 
The  methods  by  which  such  diversion  was  obtained  were  as 
various  as  the  tastes  and  temperaments  of  those  who  required 
it,  and  the  multitude  of  recreations  their  ingenuity  invented  is 
amazing,  when  the  limited  opportunities  their  confinement  per 
mitted  are  considered.  The  more  artistic  betook  themselves  to 
carving  a  great  number  and  variety  of  small  ornaments  out  of 
cannel  coal  and  vulcanized  rubber;  and  the  extremely  imagina 
tive  devoted  a  great  deal  of  time  to  writing  poetry.  Much  of 
the  carving  was  excellent,  and  many  articles  so  produced  were 
sold  for  fairly  good  prices.  Quite  probably  the  poetry  also  was 
of  high  grade,  although  there  is  not  much  testimony  extant  to 

361 


362  REMINISCENCES  OF 

that  effect,  and  I  never  heard  of  a  poem  having  been  disposed 
of  at  any  price.  The  poets,  however,  seemed  to  enjoy  it  very 
much,  no  matter  how  their  work  may  have  been  appreciated  by 
other  people.  Many  prisoners  devoted  themselves  to  really 
serious  and  profitable  study.  It  was  quite  common  for  men, 
previously  entirely  ignorant  of  those  languages,  to  acquire  in 
prison  a  tolerably  good  acquaintance  with  French  and  German, 
and,  as  the  purchase  of  books  was  allowed  in  all  the  prisons,  those 
who  could  afford  to  buy  them  might  pursue  almost  any  branch 
of  knowledge  they  chose.  Fortunately  no  one  —  at  least, 
so  far  as  I  can  remember  or  am  informed  —  essayed  to  learn 
music.  Nor  do  I  believe  that  any  one  would  have  been  suffered 
to  procure  musical  instruments  for  such  purpose.  Even  had  the 
guards  and  jailers  felt  no  concern  for  the  comfort  of  the  prisoners, 
who  would  have  been  compelled  to  listen  to  the  efforts  of  the 
amateurs,  they  would,  doubtless,  have  stoutly  denied  any  such 
privilege  on  their  own  account. 

In  such  prisons  as  Johnson's  Island,  Camp  Chase,  Fort  Dela 
ware,  etc.,  where  much  open  ground  was  contained  within  the 
enclosures,  the  prisoners  frequently  amused  themselves  with 
athletic  games  and  sports.  At  Johnson's  Island  a  favourite 
pastime  in  winter  was  a  mock  battle  with  snowballs.  Parties 
would  be  told  off  for  the  contest  and  regularly  organized,  officers 
selected,  and  military  usage  observed  as  closely  as  possible.  Snow 
forts  and  entrenchments  would  be  erected,  and  the  spectators 
were  always  greatly  edified  by  the  orthodox  conduct  of  the 
"generals,"  who,  with  proper  dignity  and  caution,  carefully 
kept  out  of  the  way  of  the  missiles,  but  sent  in  the  "staff"  and 
ordered  forward  the  troops  with  commendable  alacrity. 

In  the  Ohio  penitentiary,  where  a  number  of  Morgan's  officers 
were  confined  for  several  months,  these  open  air  recreations  were 
of  course  impossible,  and  we  were  forced  to  resort  to  more 
sedentary  methods.  Chess  was  a  very  popular  diversion.  Even 
those  who  never  learned  to  play  the  game  with  any  skill,  never 
theless  bought  books  on  chess  and  talked  as  wisely  about  the 
various  gambits  as  the  experts.  When  two  skilful  players  be 
came  engaged  a  crowd  was  always  collected  to  watch  the  game, 
and  criticism  and  advice  were  freely  offered.  The  knight,  as 
was  natural  with  cavalry  men,  was  a  favourite  piece  with  the 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  363 

spectators;  and  when  either  player  would  make  what  seemed  to 
be  a  dexterous  flank  movement  with  that  agile  combatant,  he 
was  sure  to  receive  applause.  Card  playing  was  doubtless  much 
resorted  to  in  all  the  prisons,  and  was  especially  in  vogue  at  Fort 
Delaware.  One  versatile  officer  ran  a  gambling  establishment 
in  the  room  of  the  barracks  where  he  lodged,  wherein  all  kinds 
of  games  were  conducted  during  the  week  under  his  auspices. 
On  Sunday  religious  services  were  held  there  at  which  he  assisted 
with  exemplary  decorum  and  piety. 

The  nervous  irritability  which  prolonged  and  close  confine 
ment  induces  was  often  exhibited  in  a  manner  th.at  minds  in  a 
healthy  condition  could  scarcely  understand.  In  the  Ohio 
penitentiary  the  most  animated  discussions  would  begin  as  soon 
as  we  were  permitted  to  leave  our  cells,  upon  all  sorts  of  topics, 
and  would  usually  degenerate  into  clamorous  and  angry  debate. 
The  disputants  became  as  earnest  and  excited  over  subjects  on 
which  they  had,  perhaps,  never  thought  before,  as  if  they  were 
matters  of  vital  and  pressing  importance.  It  was  prudent, 
however,  on  the  part  of  the  prisoners  to  conduct  these  discussions 
entirely  among  themselves,  and  by  no  means  to  attempt  them 
with  the  guards  and  turnkeys;  indeed,  it  was  a  rather  dangerous 
matter  to  address  one  of  these  officials  at  all,  except  on  the  most 
necessary  occasions.  If  a  remark  made  by  a  prisoner  to  one  of 
them  was  construed,  or  misconstrued,  as  criticism,  or  even  levity, 
the  offender  ran  great  danger  of  consignment  to  one  of  the 
punishment  cells,  or  "dungeons,"  as  they  were  termed,  which 
were  extremely  disagreeable  places  to  visit.  On  one  occasion 
Major  Elliott,  quartermaster  of  Morgan's  division,  a  gentleman 
very  much  accustomed  to  speaking  his  mind  freely,  got  into  trou 
ble  and  was  sent  to  one  of  these  cells  under  circumstances  which 
excited  the  sympathy  of  his  comrades,  but  also,  in  a  considerable 
degree,  their  amusement.  A  dish  which  was  almost  invariably 
served  to  us  at  breakfast  was  hominy.  Getting  it  so  constantly 
no  one,  of  course,  cared  much  for  it  unless  it  was  very  nicely 
prepared. 

One  morning  the  hominy  was  very  dark  in  colour:  it  looked  as 
if  soot  had  fallen  into  it.  When  the  meal  was  concluded  Major 
Elliott  called  to  Scott,  one  of  the  turnkeys,  saying  that  he 
desired  to  speak  with  him.  Scott  came  and  asked  what  he  wished. 


364  REMINISCENCES  OF 

"I  wish  to  condole  with  you,"  said  Elliott,  " because  of  the  death 
in  the  kitchen." 

"What  do  you  mean?"  said  Scott. 

"I  infer,"  Elliott  replied,  "that  some  one  in  the  kitchen  must 
have  died  because  the  hominy  is  in  mourning." 

This  remark  was  esteemed  sarcastic  and  therefore  insolent, 
and  the  major  was  immediately  escorted  to  the  dungeon.  He 
remained  nearly  twenty-four  hours,  and  was  released  just 
before  breakfast  of  the  next  day.  During  the  meal  he  con 
fided  to  those  who  sat  near  him  that  he  had  done  a  good  deal  of 
thinking  in  the  dungeon,  and  had  come  to  the  conclusion  that 
it  was  of  little  avail  to  a  prisoner  to  be  sulky  and  "kick  against 
the  pricks";  that  he  had  made  up  his  mind  to  be  diplomatic 
and  take  matters  amiably.  In  pursuance  of  this  politic  reso 
lution  he  again  notified  Scott,  when  breakfast  was  finished, 
that  he  wanted  a  word  with  him.  Scott  approached,  and 
Elliott  said  in  a  very  gushing  manner:  "I  desire  to  compliment 
and  congratulate  you  on  the  excellent  quality  and  condition  of 
the  hominy  this  morning.  It  almost  reconciles  a  man  to  re 
main  in  prison  to  get  such  food." 

"Very  well,"  said  Scott,  "you  just  come  along  back  to  the 
dungeon." 

"Back  to  the  dungeon?"  yelled  Elliott;  it  had  not  occurred 
to  him  that  his  language  might  be  deemed  ironical  and  conse 
quently  impertinent.  "What  must  I  go  back  'to  the 
dungeon  for?" 

"Why,"  said  Scott,  "for  what  you've  just  said  about  the 
hominy." 

"All  right,"  said  the  major,  very  sadly;  "but  it's  d  —  d  hard 
for  a  man  in  this  prison  to  know  exactly  what  to  say  about  the 
hominy." 

Through  all  time,  captivity  has  been  regarded  as  a  dire  mis 
fortune.  It  has  been  ranked  in  the  category  of  evils  with  death 
itself,  and  considered  often  as  one  of  not  less  magnitude.  During 
the  Civil  War  capture  and  confinement  in  the  military  prisons, 
where  many  thousands  lay  so  long  in  painful  durance,  was  more 
dreaded  by  the  soldiers,  Federal  and  Confederate,  than  any 
other  hardship  or  hazard;  and  .with  good  reasons,  for  it  was  more 
rigorous  and  almost  as  dangerous  to  life  as  service  in  the  field. 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  365 

If  compelled  the  choice,  I  would  far  rather  undergo  all  the  peril 
and  privation  I  knew  while  with  the  army  than  again  endure, 
for  even  a  brief  period,  the  ordeal  of  the  prison. 

Nevertheless,  inasmuch  as  kind  providence  permits  some  al 
leviation  of  the  world's  hardest  lessons,  even  imprisonment  was 
not  altogether  without  it;  and  I  can  recall  some  personal  ex 
periences,  while  a  prisoner,  which  I  remember  with  interest 
and  pleasure. 

I  was  captured  at  Burlington's  Island,  at  the  conclusion  of 
Morgan's  raid  through  Indiana  and  Ohio,  and  after  a  short 
sojourn  at  Johnson's  Island,  was  taken  to  the  Ohio  Penitentiary 
and  lodged,  with  some  sixty  or  seventy  of  my  comrades,  in  that 
huge  and  gloomy  den  of  malefactors  —  a  probation  which  I  could 
not  esteem  either  reputable  or  agreeable.  I  spent  several  months 
there,  subjected  to  treatment  bad  enough  at  best,  but  almost 
intolerable  after  General  Morgan's  escape  had  enhanced  the  sus 
picion,  and  apparently  fomented  the  ill-will  of  our  keepers;  and 
then,  upon  the  friendly  intercession  of  some  persons  in  the  North, 
whose  loyalty  was  unquestioned,  I  was  removed  to  Camp  Chase, 
one  of  the  large  prisons  where  a  great  number  of  Confederate 
soldiers  were  in  confinement.  I  was  paroled  and  allowed  to  go  at 
large  within  the  boundaries  of  the  prison  grounds;  had  comfort 
able  quarters  assigned  me;  and  was  treated  with  perfect  respect 
by  the  officers  of  the  guard  stationed  there,  whose  demeanour 
was  very  different  from  that  of  the  penitentiary  officials.  I  re 
ceived,  indeed,  not  only  courtesy  but  kindness  from  Colonel 
Richardson,  the  commandant,  and  save  for  the  partial  restric 
tions  upon  my  movements  and  my  intense  desire  to  get  back  to 
Dixie,  was  about  as  well  off  as  any  of  my  custodians. 

These  privileges,  however,  had  been  obtained  for  me  without 
any  request  upon  my  own  part,  and  indeed,  without  my  knowl 
edge  that  such  request  had  been  made  by  any  one.  So  in  two 
or  three  weeks,  having  become  somewhat  ashamed  of  enjoying 
favours  and  comforts  denied  my  comrades,  and  finding  that  there 
was  no  hope  of  this  condition  leading  to  my  exchange  and  return 
to  the  Confederacy,  I  made  application  that  my  parole  should  be 
revoked  and  that  I  should  be  sent  back  to  the  penitentiary.  My 
wishes  in  each  respect  were  promptly  complied  with. 

For  some  reason,  however,  the  Federal  authorities  decided 


366  REMINISCENCES  OF 

that  I  should  be  removed  to  Fort  Delaware,  and  in  two  or  three 
days  an  order  was  received  by  the  warden  of  the  penitentiary 
instructing  him  to  turn  me  over  to  a  military  guard,  which  should 
proceed  with  me  to  that  prison.  So  I  was  taken  to  the  depot 
one  frosty  night  in  February  and  formally  introduced  to  a  tall, 
fine-looking  young  fellow,  in  a  major's  uniform,  who  informed 
me  that  he  was  Major  Johnson,  of  General  Heintzelman's 
staff,  and  that  he  was  commissioned  to  conduct  me  to  my  in 
tended  domicile  on  the  banks  of  the  Delaware.  He  further 
notified  me  that  while  he  would  be  very  glad  to  talk  with  me,  he 
had  strict  orders  to  forbid  my  holding  any  communication  what 
ever  with  any  other  person  on  the  journey.  He  had  with  him 
a  guard  of  soldiers,  whom  he  regarded  apparently  with  little 
favour;  and  his  manner,  while  perfectly  courteous,  was,  I  thought, 
rather  "cold  and  distant"  to  me,  as  well  as  to  the  guard.  It 
was  not  long  before  I  ascertained  the  cause. 

So  soon  as  we  boarded  the  train  he  peremptorily  ordered  the 
guard  to  go  into  another  coach  than  that  which  we  were  about 
to  occupy.  He  then  produced  a  flask  of  excellent  brandy,  a 
package  of  sandwiches,  and  cigars,  suggesting  that  as  we  would 
not  be  able  to  sleep  comfortably,  it  was  just  as  well  that  we  should 
endeavour  to  enjoy  ourselves  otherwise.  We  proceeded,  there 
fore,  to  eat,  drink,  and  smoke  together,  like  bon  camarades, 
talking  the  while  about  various  matters.  The  major's  austere 
reserve,  however,  was  maintained  for  some  two  or  three  hours, 
when  it  was  completely  dispelled  by  an  incident  which  caused  us 
both  much  amusement. 

There  were  a  number  of  Federal  soldiers  on  the  train,  coming 
home  on  furlough  from  the  Army  of  the  Potomac.  Quite  a 
number  of  ministers,  who  had  been  in  attendance  upon  a  con 
ference  of  their  denomination  held  at  Columbus,  were  also  on 
board.  Several  of  them  were  in  the  coach  which  we  occupied. 
These  gentlemen  had  been  engaged  in  earnest,  decorous,  and, 
doubtless,  edifying  discourse,  to  which  Johnson  and  I  had 
paid  little  attention,  until  about  ten  o'clock,  when  there  was 
an  irruption  from  another  coach  of  six  or  seven  of  the  sol 
diers.  They  were  in  a  hilarious  mood,  as  soldiers  on  furlough 
usually  are,  but  unfortunately,  also  about  half  drunk.  As  soon 
as  they  espied  the  preachers,  whose  dress,  especially  their  white 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  367 

cravats,  unmistakably  identified  them,  the  soldiers  seemed 
smitten  with  an  uncontrollable  desire  to  converse  with  these 
reverend  gentry,  and  without  delay  or  hesitation  indulged  it. 

One  of  the  ministers,  more  elderly  than  the  others,  had  taken 
a  decided,  indeed,  dominant  part  in  their  previous  discussions, 
expressing  very  positive  opinions  in  rather  pompous  and  prag 
matic  diction.  To  this  gentleman  a  soldier,  who  seemed  to  be  a 
leader  among  his  comrades  and  was  evidently  a  regimental  wag, 
particularly  addressed  himself.  He  insisted  on  discussing  the 
ology,  and  boisterously  demanded  answers  to  the  many  gro 
tesque  religious  propositions  he  propounded.  To  the  intense 
delight  of  his  companions,  this  elicited  strenuous  remonstrance 
from  his  victim  and  scathing  rebuke  because  of  his  profane  and 
flippant  discourse,  to  all  of  which  the  unabashed  persecutor 
responded  with  burlesque  exhortation,  and  the  not  too  delicate 
slang  of  the  camp. 

The  preacher  called  for  the  conductor  to  protect  him,  but 
that  functionary  was  either  out  of  hearing  or  prudently  preferred 
to  abstain  from  interference,  which  might  have  induced  un 
pleasant  consequences  to  himself.  He  finally  appealed  to  Major 
Johnson,  and  a  few  good-humoured  but  positive  words  from  the 
latter  obtained  him  relief. 

Johnson  and  I  had  both  been  greatly  amused  by  this  episode 
—  a  feeling  which  the  confreres  of  the  distressed  doctor  of  divinity 
had  also  unmistakably  shared,  although  more  within  the  bounds 
of  decorum,  and  it  served  to  completely  break  the  ice  between 
us.  He  then  told  me  that  he  had  been  somewhat  chagrined  by 
the  instructions  he  had  received  as  to  how  he  should  deal  with 
me.  He  was  a  very  powerfully  built  man  and  in  perfect  physical 
training,  and  was  quite  proud  of  his  prowess  as  an  athlete,  having 
found  few  peers  in  that  respect  in  his  native  city  of  Boston.  It 
seems  that  some  of  the  loyal  citizens  of  Columbus,  learning  of 
what  he  was  about  to  do,  had  advised  General  Heintzelman  that 
he  should  furnish  the  major  with  a  strong  guard,  because,  they 
represented,  "this  man  Duke  is  one  of  Morgan's  cut-throats  and 
a  very  blood-thirsty  desperado.  If  he  gets  a  chance  to  do  so 
he  will  cut  Major  Johnson's  throat  and  make  his  escape,  unless 
the  major  is  provided  with  a  sufficient  escort. " 

General  Heintzelman  accordingly  detailed  half  a  dozen  men 


368  REMINISCENCES  OF 

to  accompany  Johnson,  much  to  his  disgust,  who  declared  his 
ability  to  take  care  of  any  one  man  single  handed.  When  I 
was  turned  over  to  him  at  the  depot,  and  he  realized  that  all  these 
precautions  had  been  taken  to  enable  him  to  safely  handle  a 
man  little  more  than  half  his  own  size,he  was  ineffably  humiliated, 
and,  as  I  have  said,  virtually  dismissed  the  guard.  He  expressed 
regret  that  he  could  not  parole  me,  but  said  his  orders  on  that 
score  were  imperative.  I  had  no  desire,  however,  to  be  paroled 
for  the  purposes  of  that  trip,  for  Johnson  treated  me  as  a  prisoner 
in  nowise,  further  than  keeping  me  closely  by  his  side.  I  en 
joyed  every  comfort  that  he  had.  I  had  no  idea,  either,  of  at 
tempting  to  escape  in  that  region  and  under  the  circumstances,  no 
matter  what  opportunity  might  be  offered.  I  had  no  overcoat 
and  was  not  especially  warmly  clad,  and  would  have  soon  frozen 
in  the  mountains  unless  I  could  have  obtained  shelter;  and  clad 
as  I  was  in  full  Confederate  uniform,  and  wearing  a  big  slouched 
Southern  hat,  with  a  gold  cord  around  it,  I  could  not  have 
escaped  observation,  but  would  certainly  have  been  recaptured 
had  I  approached  any  habitation.  My  chance  of  concealment 
would  have  been  even  less  in  a  town  or  city. 

There  happened  to  be  on  the  train  a  lady  whom  I  had  known 
when  I  had  lived  in  St.  Louis,  and  with  whose  family  I  had  been 
on  exceedingly  friendly  terms.  She  was  en  route  to  New  York 
with  her  daughter,  a  very  pretty  and  attractive  girl.  This  lady 
was  an  ardent  Southern  sympathizer,  and  learning  that  I  was 
in  the  adjoining  coach  sent  a  gentleman  who  was  of  her  party 
to  request  that  she  might  be  permitted  to  see  me.  I  happened 
to  know  the  envoy  also  quite  well.  He  was  a  popular  young 
lawyer  of  St.  Louis,  and  an  all-around  good  fellow.  I  was, 
of  course,  very  glad  to  see  him  and  receive  his  message,  and 
Major  Johnson  quite  readily  consented  that  I  should  see  the 
ladies.  Just  as  we  were  about  to  start,  my  friend  essayed 
surreptitiously  to  slip  into  my  hand  a  roll  of  bank  bills.  As  I 
was  tolerably  well  provided  with  money  at  that  time,  and  knew 
that  I  could  procure  more  if  I  should  need  it,  I  declined  the 
proffer  with  due  thanks.  I  did  so  openly,  for  I  felt  assured 
that  Johnson  would  appreciate  the  sentiment  which  dictated 
the  intended  gift  and  would  never  think  of  disciplining  the 
donor.  My  friend,  however,  was  terrified.  He  expected  to 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  369 

be  immediately  arrested  and  thought  he  saw  a  worse  fate  than 
that  which  had  befallen  me  staring  him  in  the  face.  Neither 
Johnson  nor  I  could  help  laughing  at  his  evident  dismay,  but 
the  major  hastened  to  dispel  his  apprehension,  saying  that 
he  .was  gratified  to  know  that  my  friends  were  so  kindly  disposed 
toward  me,  and  that  he  thought  it  was  foolish  in  me  to  refuse 
the  money  which  I  could  turn  over  to  some  other  unfortunate 
rebel  if  I  did  not  wish  to  use  it  myself. 

On  the  next  day  our  relations  became  yet  more  cordial,  and 
he  offered,  notwithstanding  his  instructions,  to  accept  my  parole, 
which  I  declined  to  give,  more  on  his  own  account  than  my  own. 
When  we  reached  Philadelphia  he  announced  his  intention  of 
sending  his  guard  to  the  barracks  and  of  taking  me  with  him  to 
the  hotel.  I  remonstrated  against  this,  fearing  that  it  might 
cause  him  trouble,  but  he  was  obdurate;  so  we  went  to  the  Con 
tinental  Hotel,  where,  upon  my  suggestion,  we  occupied  the 
same  room,  in  order  that  if  the  matter  should  be  investigated, 
it  might  appear  that  he  had  kept  me  under  his  eye. 

As  might  have  been  expected,  my  appearance  in  Confederate 
uniform  aroused  a  great  deal  of  curiosity  and  excitement.  A 
large  crowd  flocked  into  the  office  of  the  hotel  to  witness  a  sight 
so  unusual,  and  I  was  subjected  to  many  interviews. 

The  major,  disposed  apparently  to  go  the  limit  of  hospitality, 
suggested  that  something  very  interesting  was  on  exhibition  at 
one  of  the  theatres,  and  proposed  that  he  take  me  to  see  it.  I 
reminded  him  of  what  had  just  before  occurred  in  the  hotel, 
and  said  I  was  averse  to  a  similar  experience  at  the  theatre.  I 
felt  sure  that  he  would  incur,  at  least,  a  severe  reprimand,  and 
perhaps  more  serious  punishment  and  was  extremely  unwilling 
that  his  kindness  to  me  should  bring  such  results. 

We  finally  compromised  by  my  agreeing  to  visit  with  him  one 
of  his  friends  in  the  city,  to  whom  he  was  particularly  attached. 
This  gentleman,  a  Mr.  Clement  Barclay,  was  one  of  the  most 
attractive  men  I  ever  met.  I  was  informed  that  it  was  his  habit 
to  visit  all  of  the  great  battle  fields  in  Virginia  immediately  after 
the  engagement,  and  institute  a  hospital  of  his  own,  where 
wounded  men  of  both  armies  were  cared  for.  I  could  well 
credit  the  story  for  benevolence  and  philanthropy  were  evinced 
in  his  look,  speech,  and  manner. 


370  REMINISCENCES  OF 

Mr.  Barclay  received  us  with  effusion,  ordered  supper,  and 
straightway  sent  for  two  or  three  of  his  friends  to  meet  us.  In 
due  time  these  gentlemen,  who,  by  the  way,  were  Federal  officers, 
came  in,  and  we  proceeded  to  discuss  a  supper  which  to  a  man 
fresh  from  penitentiary  fare,  seemed  like  a  feast  fit  for  the  gods. 
Our  session  was  prolonged  pleasantly  until  late  in  the  night,  and 
on  the  next  morning  Major  Johnson  proceeded  to  Fort  Dela 
ware,  where  he  duly  deposited  and  took  a  receipt  for  his  prisoner. 

In  the  course  of  two  or  three  weeks  he  returned,  this  time  with 
a  number  of  prisoners,  and  demanded  to  see  me.  After  very 
cordial  greeting  on  both  sides,  I  said:  "Major,  did  you  give  these 
fellows  as  good  a  time  as  you  gave  me?" 

"No,"  he  answered,  emphatically;  "I  did  not,  and  I'm  in 
clined  to  think  that  if  it  was  to  be  gone  over  again,  I  would  not 
treat  you  quite  so  well.  Why,  I've  been  under  a  hotter  fire  on 
your  account  than  I  ever  saw  in  the  field.  Those  newspaper 
fellows  in  Philadelphia  tried  to  make  people  believe  that  you  and 
I  and  Clem  Barclay  were  hatching  rebellion  in  the  Quaker 
City.  I  have  a  stack  of  letters  as  high  as  my  hat  about  the  matter, 
and  all  red  hot." 

The  major,  however,  got  through  all  right,  and  I  have  always 
gratefully  remembered  his  courtesy. 

It  may  be  readily  understood,  even  by  those  who  have  had 
no  personal  experience  in  such  wise,  or  have  not  listened  to  the 
stories  told  by  those  whose  experience  of  prison  life  has  left 
lasting  recollections  of  it,  that  men  will  resort  to  every  possible 
expedient  to  relieve  the  tedium  and  ennui  of  captivity.  Such 
was  the  case  in  the  military  prisons  during  the  war,  as  I  have 
already  said,  the  wiser  and  more  prudent  sought  solace  or 
oblivion  of  their  unfortunate  condition  in  healthy  employment 
of  some  sort;  in  carving  trinkets  or  in  the  yet  saner  and  more 
absorbing  enjoyments  of  literature.  Some  devoted  themselves 
(thinking,  or,  at  least,  hoping,  that  it  might  prove  useful  in  the 
future)  to  military  study;  others  preferred  the  dime  novel,  or, 
looking  forward  to  exile  from  their  native  country  as  the  possible 
sequel  of  Confederate  defeat,  applied  themselves  assiduously  to 
acquiring  a  knowledge  of  the  languages  they  would  be  required  to 
understand  and  speak  in  the  lands  where  they  might 
find  refuge. 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  371 

No  man,  perhaps,  could  enumerate  the  many  devices,  more  or 
less  ingenious  and  partially  successful,  which  the  Confederate 
prisoners  invented  to  make  tolerable  their  dreary  days,  weeks, 
and  months  of  confinement,  and  bridge  over  the  intervals 
when  they  were  not  planning  escape  or  discussing  the  chances 
of  exchange. 

However  painful  or  mortifying  may  be  the  admission,  it  must 
nevertheless  be  admitted  —  for.  the  fact  is  entirely  too  well 
remembered  and  attested  to  be  ignored  —  that  a  very  considerable 
number  of  the  sufferers  succeeded  in  obtaining  relief,  more  nearly 
than  by  aught  else,  in  an  almost  exclusive  devotion  to  the  fickle 
goddess  of  fortune.  The  fascination  of  the  "pictorial  paste 
boards,"  in  their  various  and  entrancing  combinations,  or 
other  games  of  chance  then  current  which  yielded  like  excite 
ment,  afforded  them  the  needed  occupation  and  held  them 
in  hypnotic  thraldom. 

Confederate  money,  to  be  sure,  was  the  only  currency  they 
could  stake,  but  that,  by  a  fond  fiction  of  the  fancy,  passed 
with  them  as  money.  It  had  no  purchasing  power  in  the  prisons, 
but  its  possession  appealed  to  the  imagination;  even  when  a 
man  had  no  money  he  was  allowed  to  play  on  credit,  and  it  was  a 
point  of  honour  with  them  to  rate  every  comrade's  credit  as  being 
quite  up  to  the  standard  of  Confederate  money.  So  the  game 
was  open  to  all  and  every  one  could  feel  the  gambler's  fire  and 
share  the  gambler's  hope. 

One  of  the  largest  Federal  prisons  was  Fort  Delaware,  situated 
not  far  from  the  mouth  of  the  river  of  that  name.  When  I 
was  a  prisoner  there,  in  the  spring  and  early  summer  of  1864, 
its  inmates  numbered  several  thousand.  I,  with  some  thirty 
or  forty  others,  was  confined  in  the  casemates  of  the  fort,  but 
was  frequently  permitted  by  the  courtesty  of  the  commanding 
officer,  General  Schoepf,  a  fine,  stalwart,  kindly  old  Hungarian, 
to  visit  the  barracks,  where  there  was  a  great  multitude  of 
captive  Confederates,  including  quite  a  number  of  my  own  com 
mand  captured  upon  the  Ohio  raid.  Indeed,  all  the  armies  of 
the  Confederacy  were  represented  in  this  host.  There  were 
men  from  the  Army  of  Northern  Virginia,  from  the  Army  of  Ten 
nessee  and  from  the  Army  of  the  trans-Mississippi,  while  every 
errant  and  unattached  Confederate  organization  seemed  to  have 


372  REMINISCENCES  OF 

sent  delegates,  who  answered  at  the  daily  roll-call.  There  were 
representatives  from  every  state  in  the  South  —  from  the  Ohio 
River  to  the  Rio  Grande,  from  Kentucky,  Maryland,  and  Mis 
souri,  and  not  a  few  of  Northern  birth,  who  yet  wore  the  Confed 
erate  gray,  and  were  as  ardently  Southern  as  any  of  those  in 
whose  veins  coursed  the  blood  of  Virginia  or  South  Carolina. 

Among  these  latter  was  a  captain  in  the  Second  Kentucky 
cavalry  —  the  regiment  which  Gen.  John  H.  Morgan  had  first 
commanded.  He  was  a  native  of  New  Jersey,  but  had  come  to 
Kentucky  in  early  life,  and  had  entered  the  Confederate  service 
when  Morgan  organized  the  squadron  with  which  he  commenced 
his  career.  A  thoroughly  courageous  man,  he  was  also  exceedingly 
intelligent  as  an  officer.  No  one  was  more  skilled  and  successful 
at  cards,  and,  in  prison  at  least,  he  found  such  attraction  irre 
sistible.  Before  he  had  been  at  Fort  Delaware  a  month  he  had 
demonstrated  his  superiority  in  this  line  over  all  competitors. 
But  not  content  with  individual  excellence  and  victory,  he  as 
pired,  with  the  instinct  of  a  born  organizer,  to  extend  his  operations 
and  utilize  the  labour  of  others  who  should  be  his  subordinates. 
So  he  converted  the  particular  barrack  in  which  he  was  quartered 
into  an  extensive  gaming  saloon,  where  games  of  short  cards  might 
be  played  by  the  more  scholarly,  who  preferred  the  lucubrations 
of  science  to  the  mere  outcome  of  luck,  while  a  dozen  or  more 
faro  and  keno  tables  were  exhibited  for  the  delectation  of  those 
who  were  satisfied  with  a  less  intelligent  gratification.  Over 
each  of  these  he  appointed  one  of  his  room  mates  as  dealer,  and 
himself  officiated  as  general  manager. 

Of  course  his  " house"  was  crowded  with  visitors  from  reveille 
to  taps;  all  ranks  and  arms  —  infantry,  cavalry,  and  artillery, 
quartermasters  and  commissaries  of  subsistence  —  appeared  upon 
the  field  and  actively  participated  in  the  engagements. 

But  the  captain,  with  all  of  his  fondness  for  certain  forms  of 
relaxation,  at  the  same  time  entertained  an  acute  sense  of 
propriety.  He  was  not  only  inclined  to  strenuously  inhibit  upon 
the  part  of  others  any  act  which  might  "offend  the  most  fastid 
ious,"  but  he  liked  to  show  decent  respect  to  those  opinions  and 
customs  by  which  social  morality  and  order  are  preserved.  He 
had  also  been  piously  brought  up  in  a  strictly  religious  family. 
He  therefore  never  permitted  gaming  on  his  premises  during 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  373 

the  forenoon  of  the  Sabbath.  On  the  contrary,  he  invariably 
had  the  large  room  cleaned  up  and  properly  arranged  on  Sun 
day  morning  for  religious  services,  and  invited  some  pious  and 
eloquent  exhorter  to  conduct  them.  It  was  -his  wont  on  such 
occasions  to  act  as  usher  and  assist  as  far  as  he  could;  nothing 
could  have  been  more  edifying  than  his  devout  expression  of 
countenance  and  decorous  manner. 

But  accidents  will  happen  sometimes,  even  though  the  most 
perfect  system  and  best  regulations  are  attempted.  The  cap 
tain  learned  one  day  that  two  ministers  of  the  gospel  were  among 
a  fresh  batch  of  captured  rebels,*  who  had  just  arrived  at  the 
prison,  and  hastened  to  pay  his  respects  to  them.  After 
offering  all  the  assistance  in  his  power,  he  warmly  urged  them  to 
come  to  his  barrack  on  the  following  Sunday  and  conduct  divine 
service,  saying  that  there  would  be  an  interested  audience  to 
hear  them. 

The  gentlemen  accepted  the  invitation,  but  unfortunately 
mistook  the  hour  indicated  and  came  in  the  afternoon  instead  of 
the  morning.  They  found  a  crowd  there,  but  it  was  apparently 
not  animated  by  "the  kind  of  feeling  they  had  expected,  and  it 
was  engaged  in  the  performance  of,  to  them,  strange  and  not 
seemly  rites.  It  is  to  be  regretted  that  the  captain  was  not 
present,  for  his  ingenuity  and  readiness  might  have  suggested 
some  sort  of  explanation.  But  he  had  been  called  away,  and  had 
left  in  his  place  a  lieutenant,  who,  while  thoroughly  conversant 
with  the  regular  business  of  the  establishment,  was  totally  un 
fitted  to  handle  so  delicate  a  situation.  This  party  approached 
the  strangers,  so  soon  as  they  entered,  begged  them  to  make 
themselves  at  home  and  to  "take  a  hand." 

In  considerable  amazement,  the  reverend  gentlemen  ex 
plained  that  they  had  come  in  response  to  an  invitation  extended 
them  by  the  captain  to  assist  in  the  services  which  were  in  prog 
ress.  The  unexampled  idiot  at  once  conceived  the  idea  that 
they  were  two  new  dealers  whom  the  captain  had  employed,  and 
affably  remarked:  "Oh,  very  well,  thar's  a  faro  and  a  keno  table 
both  idle;  take  charge  of  them." 

The  indignation  of  the  ministers,  when  it  finally  dawned  upon 
them  what  sort  of  place  they  had  gotten  into,  was,  of  course, 
.extreme,  and  they  naturally  felt  that  they  had  been  insulted. 


374  REMINISCENCES  OF 

But  their  anger  was  mild  and  milky  compared  with  that  of  the 
captain  when  he  learned  what  had  happened. 

"You  blamed  wedge-headed  ape,"  he  said  to  the  offending 
lieutenant,  "with  a  hunk  of  mouldy  limburger  cheese  where 
your  brains  ought  to  be,  couldn't  you  see  that  those  gentlemen 
were  preachers?" 

"No,  I  couldn't,"  answered  the  other,  himself  much  ag 
grieved,  "you  didn't  tell  me  anything  about  them,  and  I  thought 
from  their  looks  that  they  belonged  to  the  profesh." 

In  the  summer  of  1864,  a  rumour  reached  Washington  to  the 
effect  that  fifty  Federal  officers  of  various  grades,  prisoners  in 
the  Confederate  hands,  had  been  placed  at  Charleston  —  then 
closely  besieged  and  fiercely  bombarded  —  in  a  situation  which 
exposed  them  to  the  fire  of  the  Federal  fleet.  Crediting  this 
report,  the  Federal  authorities  at  once  issued  orders  that  fifty 
Confederate  prisoners  of  corresponding  rank,  should  be  taken  to 
Charleston  —  or  rather  as  near  thereto  as  possible  —  and  ex 
posed,  in  retaliation,  to  the  fire  of  the  Confederate  batteries. 

Thus,  by  a  novel  turn  of  fortune,  these  soldiers  of  the  South 
were  selected  —  although,  happily,  not  destined  —  to  serve  their 
flag,  under  the  fire  of  their  own  comrades. 

Intended,  as  I  have  said,  to  correspond  officially  with  the 
reported  Federal  roster,  four  general  officers  headed  the  Con 
federate  list:  Maj.-Gen.  Franklin  Gardner,  of  Louisiana;  Maj.- 
Gen.  Edward  Johnson,  of  Virginia;  Brig.-Gen.  George 
H.  Stewart,  of  Maryland;  and  Brig.-Gen.  M.  Jeff.  Thom 
son,  of  Missouri.  The  list  of  fifty  was  completed  by  the  addition 
of  a  number  of  colonels,  majors,  and  captains.  It  was  made 
almost  entirely  from  prisoners  confined  at  Fort  Delaware,  and 
I  was  so  lucky  as  matters  turned  out,  to  be  on  it. 

It  may  seem  somewhat  strange  to  the  reader  born  and  reared 
in  post-bellum  times,  when  I  say  that  all  of  these  who  were  se 
lected  for  this  apparent  holocaust  were  exceedingly  gratified 
and  deemed  themselves  fortunate.  In  the  first  place,  wearied 
with  the  monotony  of  prison  life,  they  were  inclined  to  welcome 
anything  in  the  nature  of  change  and  variety.  Nor  were  they 
really  alarmed  by  the  prospect  of  getting  within  the  range  of 
heavy  artillery.  Some  of  them  had  learned  from  personal 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  375 

experience,  many  others  from  hearsay,  that  while  the  shells 
from  the  big  guns  can  inflict  terrible  havoc  when  they  burst 
where  damage  may  be  done,  they  do  not  often  hit  such 
spots;  that  at  any  rate  the  loss  of  life  occasioned  by  them  is 
comparatively  trivial. 

But  our  chief  reason  for  regarding  the  matter  with  little  or 
no  apprehension  was  the  fact  that  none  of  us  believed  the  truth 
of  the  report  that  the  Federal  prisoners  had  been  placed  under 
fire.  We,  therefore,  had  no  fear  that  we  ourselves  would  be 
subjected  to  any  such  ordeal,  but,  on  the  contrary,  hoped  that, 
when  the  true  state  of  affairs  became  known,  an  exchange  of 
the  members  of  the  respective  details  would  be  arranged;  and 
for  the  sake  of  such  a  result  we  would  very  gladly  have  encoun 
tered  a  much  more  serious  risk.  We,  therefore,  started  upon  this 
excursion  in  high  spirits,  and  with  most  pleasant  anticipations 
which  were,  for  once,'  destined  to  be  realized. 

We  were  placed  on  board  of  a  steamer  which  had  previously 
been  in  the  coasting  trade,  but  which,  at  the  time  of  which  I 
write,  was  employed  by  the  United  States  government  as  a 
transport.  Steaming  down  the  Delaware  River  and  out  into  the 
ocean,  we  ran  for  two  or  three  days  down  the  Atlantic  coast, 
during  which  nothing  occurred  to  impress  the  voyage  on  our 
remembrance  except  a  sharp  squall  of  wind  and  rain,  that  struck 
the  steamer  just  as  she  rounded  Cape  Hatteras.  The  sailors 
thought  it  a  small  affair,  but  the  greater  number  of  our  party, 
who,  if  not  exactly  "honest  farmers,"  had  yet  no  experience  of 
the  sea,  considered  it  quite  a  tempest.  The  waves  seemed  to 
us  to  be  leaping  to  a  very  great  height,  and  the  vessel  to  be 
sinking  to  a  dangerous  depth;  and  many  would  have  preferred 
the  bombardment  with  which  we  were  threatened  to  the  watery 
grave  that  was  apparently  more  imminent.  Sea-sickness,  how 
ever,  soon  quieted  all  such  apprehension,  and  for  several  agoniz 
ing  hours  the  sufferers  cared  very  little  whether  the  ship  reached 
its  destination  or  went  to  the  bottom. 

Instead  of  being  taken  on  to  Charleston  we  were  stopped  at 
Hilton  Head,  and  there  transferred  to  the  brig  Dragoon,  a  sailing 
vessel  of  about  four  hundred  tons  burthen,  which  was  also  in 
the  service  of  the  government.  The  reason  for  this  change  of 
programme,  or  at  least  delay  in  its  execution,  was,  as  we 


376  REMINISCENCES  OF 

subsequently  learned,  that  the  Federal  authorities  had  discovered 
that  the  information  given  them  was  erroneous,  and  the  Federal 
prisoners  had  not  been  put  where  they  would  receive  the  fire  of 
the  fleet.  Of  course,  when  it  was  ascertained  that  there  was  no 
cause  for  retaliation,  the  order  that  we  should  be  placed  under  the 
fire  of  the  Confederate  batteries  was  revoked,  and  it  was  decided 
that  we  should  be  detained  at  Hilton  Head  until  a  conclusion 
should  be  reached  as  to  the  final  disposition  to  be  made  of  us. 

We  remained  here  some  two  or  three  weeks,  and  the  situation 
could  scarcely  be  described  as  a  pleasant  one;  for  confinement 
between  decks  on  a  small  vessel  during  the  hot  nights  of  that 
climate  was  not  at  all  comfortable,  especially  as  the  ports  were  all 
kept  closed,  lest  perhaps  some  of  us  might  squeeze  through  them 
in  an  effort  to  escape.  Nevertheless,  taking  all  things  into  con 
sideration,  we  were  much  better  satisfied  than  we  had  been  at 
Fort  Delaware.  The  now  reasonable  expectation  of  exchange 
and  bright  hope  of  liberty  and  return  to  Dixie  would  have  been 
ample  compensation  for  any  privation  or  discomfort. 

Although  kept  below  at  night,  we  were  permitted  to  remain  on 
deck  during  the  daytime  from  an  early  hour  in  the  morning  until 
after  dark;  but  were  always  closely  guarded.  Soldiers  were 
constantly  on  board  the  brig,  and  boats,  with  armed  crews  from 
the  men-of-war  lying  in  the  harbour,  surrounded  her  by  night. 
The  Dragoon  was  anchored  immediately  under  the  guns  of  the 
United  States  frigate  Wabash,  which  seemed  to  watch  the 
little  prison  ship  as  a  bull-dog  might  eye  a  tramp.  One  night 
the  Dragoon  was  driven  from  her  moorings  by  a  violent  storm 
and  drifted  quite  a  mile  away  from  her  grim  and  jealous  guardian. 
Early  the  next  morning  her  captain  received  word  from  the  Wa- 
bash  that  he  must  return  without  delay  to  his  former  anchorage, 
and  that  disobedience  or  any  lack  of  diligence  would  be  punished 
by  a  broadside  from  the  big  frigate.  The  guards  were  even  more 
alarmed  by  this  threat  than  were  the  prisoners,  and  the  captain 
and  crew  made  strenuous  haste  to  execute  the  order. 

Our  favourite  amusement  was  fishing,  and  especially  catching 
sharks,  which  swarmed  about  the  brig.  In  this  the  sailors  aided 
and  gave  us  lessons.  Although  we  saw  some  of  much  greater 
size,  the  largest  shark  that  we  caught  was  only  about  five  feet 
in  length.  This  fellow,  after  taking  the  hook,  plunged  and  fought 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  377 

with  marvellous  strength  and  tenacity,  dashing  through  the  waves 
in  every  direction.  Two  men  were  required  to  hold  the  line  and 
prevent  his  escape,  and  when,  after  a  pull  of  ten  or  fifteen  minutes, 
he  was  finally  drawn  to  the  ship,  it  was  only  by  the  united  efforts 
of  half  a  dozen  men  that  he  could  be  hauled  over  the  side.  When 
on  deck  he  lashed  viciously  with  his  tail  and  snapped  at  every 
thing  in  his  vicinity,  continuing  to  struggle  even  after  the  soldiers 
had  riddled  him  with  bullets  and  his  back  had  been  hammered 
with  an  axe.  If  any  prisoner  had  previously  contemplated  at 
tempting  a  swim  for  freedom  he  completely  abandoned  the  idea 
after  witnessing  that  exhibition. 

The  usual  avidity  for  rumours  and  gossip  which  characterized 
prison  life  prevailed  on  the  Dragoon,  and  the  guards  became  as 
much  infected  by  that  spirit  as  we  were.  One  day  an  absurd 
report  was  circulated  that  Mrs.  Lincoln,  having  driven  with  an 
insufficient  escort  to  a  dangerous  distance  from  Washington,  had 
been  captured  by  some  of  Mosby's  cavalry  and  was  a  prisoner  at 
Richmond.  For  a  day  or  two  speculation  regarding  how  and 
for  whom  she  would  be  exchanged  was  at  fever  heat.  Finally, 
a  certain  Captain  Wilson,  a  bright,  inventive  Irishman,  who  was 
of  our  party,  announced  that  he  had  overheard  a  conversation 
held  by  the  crew  of  one  of  the  guard  boats,  which  enabled  him  to 
furnish  a  solution  of  this  question,  and  that  it  would  be  extremely 
gratifying  to  all  of  us.  He  said  that  arrangements  had  been 
made  to  exchange  Mrs.  Lincoln  for  our  comrade  and  friend, 
Gen.  M.  Jeff.  Thompson.  General  Thompson  sternly  de 
manded  to  know  what  he  meant  by  such  a  statement.  Wilson 
affably  replied  that  he  had  gathered  enough  from  the  conver 
sation  to  which  he  had  listened  to  feel  sure  that  the  negotiations 
would  be  consummated  without  difficulty  or  delay.  "We  all 
know,"  he  said,  "that  in  exchange  of  prisoners,  an  effort  is  always 
made  to  effect  it  with  as  due  regard  as  possible  to  equality  of 
rank  and  condition  of  the  parties  to  be  exchanged.  The  Confed 
erate  government  raised  the  point  that  Mrs.  Lincoln  is,  not  a 
general  —  has  not  that  titular-  rank  at  any  rate.  The  Federal 
authorities  admit  that  this  is  true,  'but,'  they  urge,  'General 
Thompson  is  such  a  lady.":  Somehow  this  explanation,  instead 
of  appeasing  General  Thompson's  ire,  seemed  to  aggravate  it. 

As  we  had  hoped  and  believed,  a  special  exchange  of  our  party 


378  REMINISCENCES  OF 

for  the  fifty  Federal  prisoners  was  at  length  arranged,  and  one 
bright  morning  we  were  removed  to  a  fine  steamer  and  borne 
away  for  Charleston.  Comfortable  berths  were  given  us  and 
we  were  practically  unguarded.  We  passed  through  the  great 
fleet  lying  in  front  of  the  city  and  noted,  more  curiously  than  any 
other  craft,  the  "Monitors,"  of  which  there  was  then  such  fre 
quent  mention;  of  these  there  were  some  twenty-five  or  thirty 
that  we  could  see  and  numerous  indentations  in  their  turrets, 
evidently  made  by  shot  from  great  guns,  showed  that  they  had 
seen  service. 

After  the  customary  formalities  had  been  gone  through  with 
and  the  exchange  completed,  a  banquet  was  given  the  prisoners 
on  both  sides,  in  which  the  officers  conducting  the  exchange  and 
some  of  the  officers  of  the  fleet  participated.  To  the  Confederates 
and  doubtless  to  the  others  so  long  accustomed  to  prison  fare, 
this  feast  seemed  ambrosial,  almost  incredible,  and  was  done 
ample  justice.  We  then  went  on  board  of  a  small  Confederate 
boat  and  steamed  down  the  harbour  toward  the  city.  It  had 
been  agreed  that  all  real  firing  should  be  suspended  for  the  day, 
both  by  the  fleet  and  the  Confederate  batteries,  but,  in  honour 
of  the  occasion,  the  big  guns  on  both  sides  boomed  out  thunderous 
salutes  when  the  exchange  was  concluded. 

The  generous,  warm-hearted  people  of  Charleston  gave  us  a 
cordial,  hospitable  welcome,  and  their  courage  and  ardour  seemed 
in  no  whit  abated  by  the  bombardment  and  the  other  hazards 
of  a  siege.  We  were  assigned  to  the  houses  of  prominent  citizens 
and  delightfully  entertained. 

With  five  or  six  others  I  was  quartered  that  night,  at  the  resi 
dence  of  Major  Huger.  We  were  sitting,  after  supper,  on  the 
veranda,  where  quite  a  number  of  visitors  were  also  collected, 
busily  engaged  in  telling  our  prison  experience  or  intently  listening 
to  narratives  of  the  siege.  About  eight  or  nine  o'clock,  a  tremen 
dous  roar  came  from  the  fleet,  succeeded  soon  after  by  detonations 
almost  as  loud,  as  the  shells  dropped  in  the  various  parts  of  the 
town.  The  bombardment  had  been  renewed,  and  immediately  our 
guns  began  to  answer.  The  thing  was  so  unexpected  to  me  —  for 
I  had  forgotten  that  the  firing  was  to  be  renewed  at  nightfall  - 
that  I  was  quite  startled  and  sprang  to  my  feet  with  an  exclam 
ation  of  surprise,  and  I  rather  think  of  alarm.  "  Sit  down, 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  379 

colonel,"  said  Major  Huger,  with  a  laugh,  "we'll  not  let  you  be 
hurt;  not  one  of  those  shells  dropped  within  a  half  mile  of  us." 

"Well,  major,"  I  replied,  "I  hope  you  are  correct,  but  with  all 
deference  to  your  superior  knowledge,  I  think  at  least  one  of 
those  fellows  burst  within  ten  feet  of  my  chair. " 

All  feeling  of  disquiet,  however,  soon  wore  away,  and  the  new 
comers  were  beginning  to  take  matters  as  coolly  as  the  more 
experienced,  when  suddenly  a  deafening,  appalling  explosion  — 
as  it  seemed  to  me  —  rang  out  apparently  in  the  very  lawn. 
I  again  arose. 

"Gentlemen,"  I  said,  "you  must  really  excuse  me  this  time. 
I  want  to  take  to  the  woods. " 

There  was  another  laugh  at  my  expense,  and  they  explained 
that  the  sound  which  had  so  terrified  me  had  been  the  bellow 
of  the  "Swamp  Angel,"  the  biggest  of  our  own  guns. 

On  the  next  day  we  were  given  transportation  to  our  respec 
tive  destinations,  and  after  some  hours,  which  in  my  impatient 
anxiety,  however,  seemed  more  like  years,  I  was  again  with  my 
wife  and  little  boy,  and  found  there  another  baby,  a  little  girl  I 
had  never  seen  before,  for  she  had  been  born  while  I  was  a 
prisoner. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

WHEN,  in  April,  1865,  the  Confederate  troops  in  the 
department  of  south-western  Virginia,  under  Gen. 
John  C.  Echols,  then  on  their  way  to  effect  a  junction 
with  the  army  of  General  Lee,  learned  of  the  surrender  at  Appo- 
mattox,  the  surprise  and  consternation  thus  occasioned  could 
scarcely  have  been  greater  had  they  seen  the  sun  suddenly  blotted 
out  of  the  heavens.  During  the  night  following  the  reception 
of  the  dreadful  news,  officers  and  men  rushed  about  wildly 
through  the  respective  camps  in  a  frenzy  of  excitement.  No  man 
slept;  all  were  in  eager  but  futile  conference,  and  every  conceiv 
able  plan  of  action  which  could  in  anywise  fit  the  emergency  was 
suggested  and  discussed. 

On  the  next  day  General  Echols  convened  a  council  of  war, 
composed  of  his  brigade  commanders,  and,  after  some  consulta 
tion,  issued  an  order  furloughing  for  sixty  days  the  men  of  the 
infantry  regiments,  with  the  understanding  that  if  at  the  expira 
tion  of  that  time  the  Confederacy  was  still  in  existence,  they 
should  return  to  the  ranks.  He  directed  the  commanders  of 
the  cavalry  brigades  to  hold  themselves  prepared  to  march 
immediately  to  join  the  forces  under  Gen.  Joseph  E. 
Johnston. 

General  Vaughn's  brigade,  therefore,  and  mine  commenced 
the  march  to  North  Carolina.  The  greater  number  of  my  horses 
had  been  sent  thither  during  the  previous  winter  on  account 
of  the  scarcity  of  forage  in  south-western  Virginia  and  had  not 
yet  returned;  and  having  recently  been  joined  by  many  of  the 
Morgan  men  just  out  of  prison,  I  was  compelled  to  mount  my 
command  on  mules  taken  from  the  wagon  trains  which  General 
Echols  was  compelled  to  abandon.  Six  or  seven  hundred  mules 
were  turned  over  to  me  for  that  purpose.  Notwithstanding 
this  assistance  I  was  unable  to  mount  a  considerable  number  of 
the  men  who  had  just  reported  for  duty.  These  brave  fellows 
having  obtained  rifles  from  the  furloughed  infantry-men,  wished 

380 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  381 

to  follow  the  column  on  foot,  and  I  had  some  difficulty  to  prevent 
them  from  doing  so. 

The  troops,  when  this  march  began,  were  naturally  dejected 
by  the  great  disaster  of  which  they  had  just  learned,  but  after  a 
few  days  of  rapid  and  evidently  purposeful  movement  their 
spirit  and  courage  were  perfectly  restored,  and  they  were  not  only 
willing,  but  anxious,  to  try  conclusions  with  the  Federal  cavalry, 
which  was  reported  to  be  between  us  and  General  Johnston 
and  determined  to  bar  our  further  progress.  The  point  at  which 
we  expected,  but  least  desired,  to  meet  them,  was  at  "Fancy 
Gap,"  a  defile  in  the  mountains  which  skirt  the  border  line  be 
tween  Virginia  and  North  Carolina  in  the  region  we  were  travers 
ing,  and  through  which  ran  the  road  on  which  we  were  marching. 

While  the  scenery  of  this  locality  is  unusually  picturesque 
and  impressive,  the  gap  was  the  last  place  which  we  would  have 
chosen  as  a  battle  ground.  It  is  a  sort  of  natural  gateway  be 
tween  the  two  states,  situated  at  the  extremity  of  one  of  the  most 
rugged  spurs  of  the  Alleghany  range;  and  the  country  for  many 
miles  to  the  west  of  it,  while  so  broken  as  to  be  difficult  of  access, 
can  scarcely  be  termed  mountainous.  But  the  road  through 
it,  little  wider  at  any  point  than  is  necessary  to  permit  wagons 
approaching  from  different  directions  to  pass,  winds  directly 
under  a  tall  mountain  whose  bare,  precipitous  sides  soar  sheer 
upward  to  a  very  great  height.  On  the  other  hand,  the  natural 
wall  goes  right  down  in  dizzy  descent  to  a  depth  which  appalls 
the  eye  seeking  to  fathom  it.  The  region  immediately  to  the 
west  of  the  road  is  an  immense  depression  in  the  mountain  range, 
seeming  to  have  been  by  some  convulsion  of  nature  sunken 
to  a  level  with  the  plain  at  the  foot  of  the  hills.  If  there  are  breaks 
in  this  shell  they  cannot  be  detected  by  one  gazing  from  the  road 
over  the  wide  expanse.  The  view,  comprising  many  miles  in 
every  direction,  was,  at  the  season  of  the  year  we  saw  it,  ex 
tremely  attractive.  The  low-lying  valley  was  covered  with  a 
dense  forest,  but  the  trees,  although  doubtless  large,  were  dwin 
dled  in  the  deep  distance  to  the  apparent  dimensions  of  the 
smallest  shrubs.  The  varied  vegetation,  just  in  the  richest 
foliage  of  spring,  waved  beneath  us  in  every  shade  of  green.  The 
western  end  of  the  valley  was  shrouded  in  a  glimmering  haze. 

Col.  J.   Stoddard  Johnston,  General  Echols's  chief  of  staff, 


382  REMINISCENCES  OF 

after  giving  General  Vaughn  and  myself,  before  we  entered  the 
pass,  such  instructions  as  might  be  necessary  to  govern  our 
conduct  if  we  encountered  an  enemy,  supplemented  them  with 
a  battle  order  of  incomparable  brevity  and  clearness: 

"Now,  if  the  Yankees,  d  —  n  their  eyes, 
Shall  seek  to  take  us  by  surprise, 
And  hope  to  catch  us  in  a  nap 
As  we  file  through  this  Fancy  Gap; 
Wycher  will  skirmish  to  the  front, 
While  Duke  and  Vaughn  abide  the  brunt, 
Meanwhile,  the  old  Tycoon  and  staff 
Will  mount  a  hill  apart  and  laugh." 

Very  much  to  the  satisfaction  of  all  concerned,  "Tycoon," 
staff,  and  troops,  there  were  no  Yankees  in  the  gap  when  we 
reached  it. 

We  crossed  the  Yadkin  River  on  the  second  day  after  entering 
North  Carolina,  and  on  the  next  day  reached  Statesville.  Here 
General  Echols  left  us  to  report  personally  to  General  Johnston, 
who  was  supposed  to  be  at  Salisbury.  Vaughn  marched  in  the 
direction  of  Morgantown,  and  I  pressed  on  toward  Lincolnton, 
where  I  hoped  to  find  the  horses  of  my  brigade  and  the  detail  in 
charge  of  them,  under  Colonel  Napier,  which  had  been  sent 
during  the  winter  to  that  point.  We  were  compelled  to  cross 
the  Catawba  River  by  marching  on  the  top  of  the  covered  rail 
road  bridge,  a  tedious  and  somewhat  hazardous  undertaking, 
especially  when  attempted  with  mules. 

I  had  by  this  time  obtained  credible  information  that  the  Fed 
eral  cavalry,  of  whose  proximity  we  had  heard  rumours,  were 
now  not  far  away,  and  were  also  marching  in  the  direction  of 
Lincolnton,  which  was  about  twenty  miles  distant.  I  was 
anxious  to  be  first  there,  fearing  that,  if  the  enemy  anticipated 
me,  horses  and  detail  guarding  them  might  be  captured  or  driven 
completely  beyond  my  reach.  In  an  hour  or  two  I  discovered 
that  the  Federal  cavalry  was  marching  upon  another  road  leading 
to  Lincolnton,  parallel  with  that  on  which  I  was  moving  and 
some  three  miles  to  the  west  of  it. 

Our  prospective  scouts  came  in  contact  upon  every  by-road 
and  trace  connecting  the  two  roads,  and  I  soon  found,  to  my 
great  disgust,  that  my  men  were  not  holding  their  own  as  well 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  383 

as  they  had  been  accustomed  to  do  in  that  style. of  fighting. 
When  I  inquired  the  reason,  every  fellow  said  it  was  the  fault 
of  his  "infernal  mule,"  which  could  not  possibly  be  induced 
to  behave  reasonably  in  action  or  conduct  himself  creditably 
under  fire. 

I  did  not  succeed  in  reaching  Lincolnton  before  the  enemy, 
who,  however,  did  not  succeed  in  capturing  my  horses.  Colonel 
Napier,  in  command  of  the  detail  guarding  them,  got  them  all 
safely  away  and  joined  me  the  next  day  on  the  road  to  Charlotte. 

We  found  one  or  two  other  brigades  of  cavalry  at  Charlotte 
and  a  great  many  paroled  infantry  soldiers  and  a  host  of  small 
officials  who  hadfled  from  Richmond.  Mr.  Davis  shortly  after 
ward  arrived,  escorted  by  the  cavalry  brigades  of  General  Debrell 
and  Col.  W.  C.  P.  Breckinridge.  In  the  course  of  a  speech  made 
by  Mr.  Davis  to  the  soldiers  and  citizens  who  assembled  to  greet 
him,. he  was  handed  a  despatch  announcing  the  assassination  of 
Mr.  Lincoln.  He  read  it  to  the  crowd,  but,  so  far  as  I  can 
remember,  did  not  comment  on  it  at  all  and,  indeed,  did  not 
seem  to  credit  its  accuracy. 

Gen.  John  C.  Breckinridge,  then  secretary  of  war,  was  not  with 
Mr.  Davis  when  the  latter  reached  Charlotte,  although  the  other 
members  of  the  cabinet  accompanied  him.  General  Breckin 
ridge  had  been  detained  to  assist  Gen.  Joseph  E.  Johnston  in 
the  conference  held  with  General  Sherman,  which  resulted  in 
the  armistice  that  was  so  promptly  disavowed  by  the  authori 
ties  at  Washington. 

Much  to  the  joy  of  the  Kentuckians  General  Breckinridge  came 
to  Charlotte  about  two  days  later.  On  the  next  morning  he 
rode  with  me  to  my  camp,  .and  the  men,  who  were  warmly 
attached  to  him,  gave  him  an  enthusiastic  welcome.  He  re 
sponded  with  one  of  those  brief,  felicitous  speeches  which  no  one 
else  could  make  so  well.  At  its  conclusion  he  seated  himself 
at  the  foot  of  a  large  tree  and  talked  for  more  than  an  hour  with 
the  men  who  crowded  around  him,  the  majority  of  whom  were 
personally  known  to  him  or  were  the  sons  of  his  old  friends. 
Great  curiosity  was,  of  course,  felt  to  learn  something  of  the  terms 
of  the  agreement  with  Sherman,  and  he  answered  all  questions 
with  perfect  frankness.  While  this  was  going  on  an  incident 
occurred  which  was  the  strangest  combination  of  the  ludicrous 


384  REMINISCENCES  OF 

and  the  heroic  I  ever  witnessed.  A  soldier  of  my  command, 
who  had  not  heard  the  general's  speech  or  any  part  of  his  sub 
sequent  conversation,  rode  up  on  the  sauciest-looking  mule  I 
ever  saw,  and,  saluting  and  then  tucking  his  ragged  hat  under 
his  arm,  begged  leave  to  propound  certain  inquiries.  He  was  a 
handsome,  manly  fellow,  apparently  about  nineteen  or  twenty 
years  of  age. 

" General  Breckinridge,"  he  said,  "is  it  true  that  you  have 
concluded  negotiations  which  contemplate  the  surrender  of  all 
Confederate  soldiers  on  this  side  of  the  Mississippi  river?" 

"It  is  true,"  was  the  response,  "and  I  think  the  terms  are 
such  as  all  should  accept." 

"Do  you  think,  general,  that  any  terms  of  surrender  are  hon 
ourable  and  should  be  accepted?" 

"I  do,  or  I  certainly  should  not  have  endorsed  them." 

"Well,  I  do  not,  and  shall  accept  no  terms,"  asserted  the 
indomitable  youth,  drawing  himself  up  yet  more  stiffly  while 
the  fire  of  a  quenchless  spirit  flamed  from  his  gray  eye  and  lighted 
up  every  lineament.  At  the  same  time  the  mule,  as  if  in  full 
accord  with  his  master,  stuck  out  his  forefeet,  threw  up  his  head, 
and  snorted  defiance.  No  man  ever  gazed  on  a  more  indepen 
dent  and  irrepressible  looking  couple  than  this  mule  and  his 
rider. 

"I  regret  that,"  said  the  general,  "and  your  comrades  here, 
who  are  all  good  soldiers,  do  not  agree  with  you." 

"I  can't  help  that,"  retorted  the  champion.  "They  may 
do  as  they  please.  But  the  sun  shines  as  bright  and  the  air  is 
as  pure  on  the  other  side  of  the  Rio  Grande  as  here,  and  I'll  go 
there  rather  than  surrender  to  any  Yankee." 

A  hearty  and  general  laugh,  as  much  however  of  admiration 
as  amusement,  greeted  this  spirited  declaration.  The  young 
knight  was  not  abashed. 

"Round  turned  he,  as  not  deigning 
Those  craven  ranks  to  see," 

and  tossing  his  arm  in  the  air  while  the  mule  tossed  its  tail,  he 

cantered  off  as  if  determined  to  reach  the  Rio  Grande  before  night. 

In  the  course  of  a  day  or  two  information  was  received  that 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  385 

the  Sherman- Johnston  armistice  and  treaty  would  not  be  recog 
nized  by  the  Federal  government,  and  we  learned  also  that 
nearly  every  other  Confederate  force  on  the  eastern  side  of 
the  Mississippi,  with  the  exception  of  those  at  Charlotte,  had 
surrendered.  Mr.  Davis,  therefore,  and  his  cabinet,  with  the 
five  brigades  commanded  respectively  by  General  Debrell, 
General  Ferguson,  General  Vaughn,  Colonel  Breckinridge  and 
myself,  as  an  escort  all  under  command  of  Gen.  John  C.  Breck 
inridge,  left  Charlotte  and  marched  in  the  direction  of  Washing 
ton,  Georgia. 

I  have  never  been  able  to  form  a  positive  opinion  as  to  what 
Mr.  Davis's  real  purpose  was  at  that  date.  It  was  perfectly 
manifest  to  every  one  else  that  there  was  no  hope  of  further 
successful  resistance.  Yet  at  Abbeville,  S.  C,  he  called 
together  the  commanders  of  the  several  brigades  escorting  him, 
and  in  a  spirited  and  exceedingly  eloquent  speech  urged  a  con 
tinued  prosecution  of  the  war.  He  seemed  sorely  disappointed 
when  they  declined  to  destroy  all  hope  of  procuring  favourable 
terms  of  surrender  for  their  men  by  consenting  to  such  a  policy, 
and  informed  him  that  they  were  still  keeping  the  field  only 
to  enable  him  and  the  members  of  his  cabinet  to  effect  their 
escape. 

There  was  much  speculation  among  the  men  in  regard  to  the 
chances  of  the  president  and  the  different  cabinet  officers  to  es 
cape  capture,  and  many  guesses  were  made  as  to  which  of  them 
would  do  so. 

It  was  the  general  opinion  that  Mr.  Davis  could  escape  if  he 
really  wished  to  do  so,  but  we  feared  that  his  pride  would  prevent 
his  making  the  attempt.  We  all  felt  confident  that  Breckinridge 
would  not  be  made  prisoner  if  duty  permitted  him  an  effort 
to  get  away.  As  Judge  Reagan  had  been  a  frontiersman  and 
Texas  ranger,  the  men  thought  his  chance  a  good  one.  But  all 
believed  Benjamin  would  certainly  be  caught,  and  all  deplored 
it,  for  he  had  made  himself  extremely  popular.  For  some  days  he 
rode  with  us,  always  smiling,  pleasant,  and  mixing  and  talking 
freely  with  the  soldiers.  Then  he  suddenly  and  unaccountably 
disappeared.  No  one  seemed  to  know  what  had  become  of  him. 
When  we  next  heard  of  him  he  was  practising  law  in  London. 

At  the  Savannah  River,  Mr.  Davis  ordered  a  portion  of  the 


386  REMINISCENCES  OF 

treasure  which  had  been  brought  from  Richmond  to  be  paid 
to  the  troops  composing  his  escort,  and  about  one  hundred  and 
ten  thousand  dollars  was  thus  distributed.  The  next  day  Mr. 
Davis,  apparently  yielding  to  the  importunities  of  his  followers, 
that  he  should  attempt  escape,  set  off  from  Washington  with  a 
select  body  of  men,  about  twenty  strong,  commanded  by  Capt. 
Given  Campbell,  of  Kentucky,  one  of  the  best  officers  in  the 
cavalry  service.  I  have  no  doubt  that,  had  he  really  wished  to 
escape,  Mr.  Davis  with  this  guard,  could  easily  have  done  so. 
But  I  have  always  believed  that  he  regarded  the  thought  with 
horror,  deeming  it  a  disgrace  to  one  who  had  occupied  his  exalted 
position.  His  speech  and  manner,  whenever  the  subject  was 
mentioned  in  his  presence,  clearly  indicated  this  feeling. 

Immediately  after  Mr.  Davis's  departure  the  brigade  comman 
ders  were  notified  that  they  should,  as  soon  as  possible,  have 
their  men  surrender  and  be  paroled.  General  Breckinridge,  how 
ever,  requested  me  to  hold  two  hundred  or  three  hundred  of 
my  men,  and  proceed  with  them  on  a  two  or  three  days'  march 
in  directions  which  might  divert  the  attention  of  the  numerous 
bodies  of  Federal  cavalry,  which  were  in  the  immediate  vicinity, 
from  that  which  Mr.  Davis  had  taken.  In  pursuance  of  these 
instructions  I  marched  with  about  two  hundred  of  my  men 
until  I  reached  a  little  place  called  Woodstock. 

Here  I  found  myself  directly  confronted  by  a  very  superior 
force  of  Federal  cavalry.  I  halted,  having  no  wish,  of  course, 
to  fight.  In  a  short  time  a  staff  officer  came,  bearing  a  flag  of 
truce  and  inquired  for  the  officer  commanding  my  detachment, 
and  was  immediately  brought  to  me.  He  said  that  he  had 
been  sent  by  the  officer  commanding  the  Federal  force  in  my 
front,  whose  name  I  have  forgotten,  to  request  that  I  would 
do  nothing  to  bring  on  an  engagement,  for  any  further  blood 
shed  was  much  to  be  regretted. 

"My  chief,"  said  the  staff  officer,  " instructs  me  to  say  that 
you  can  go  in  a  northern,  southern,  or  eastern  direction,  and 
that  in  such  case  he  will  give  you  a  free  path;  but  he  says  that 
if  you  attempt  to  march  westwardly,  he  will  be  compelled, 
under  his  orders,  to  attack  you." 

"Lieutenant,"  I  responded,  "please  say  to  Gen. ,  with 

my  compliments,  that  I  am  obliged  for  his  message,  and  agree 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  387 

with  him  that  no  more  blood  should  be  shed.  Say  that  I  may 
go  south,  north,  or  east,  but  I  certainly  shall  not  go 
west." 

That  afternoon  Colonel  Breckinridge  joined  me,  bearing 
a  message  from  the  general  to  the  effect  that  all  had  been 
done  to  assist  Mr.  Davis  that  was  possible,  and  that  he  advised 
me  to  make  immediate  arrangements  for  surrender. 

Perhaps  there  are  few  men  besides  myself  still  living  who  re 
member  the  distribution  of  specie  at  the  Savannah  River  which 
I  have  mentioned. 

I  myself  have  a  very  vivid  recollection  of  this  event,  and  of 
all  the  circumstances  attending  the  care  and  transportation 
of  the  fund  of  which  this  specie  was  part;  for  I  was,  very  much 
against  my  will,  made  its  chief  custodian  from  Abbeville,  S.  C, 
to  Washington,  Ga.,  and  in  that  capacity  passed  two  or  three 
days  and  nights  of  as  unpleasant  solicitude  as  ever  befell  me  in 
the  whole  course  of  my  life. 

On  the  afternoon  on  which  occurred  that  conference  between 
Mr.  Davis  and  the  commanders  of  the  five  brigades  which 
constituted  the  escort,  which  I  have  already  described,  and 
which  those  who  attended  it  have  been  accustomed  to  term  the 
"last  Confederate  council  of  war,"  Gen.  John  C.  Breckinridge 
who  was  then  secretary  of  war,  and  also  actually  commanding 
the  troops  in  attendance  upon  Mr.  Davis,  gave  instructions  to 
the  brigades  to  be  prepared  to  resume  our  march  in  the  direc 
tion  of  Washington  at  midnight.  About  ten  o'clock  I  received 
a  message  from  him  to  the  effect  that  he  desired  to  see  me  im 
mediately  about  a  very  important  matter.  When  I  reported 
to  him,  he  informed  me  that  a  considerable  amount  of  treasure, 
which  had  been  brought  from  Richmond,  was  at  the  railroad 
station,  and  said  that  it  was  necessary  to  provide  for  its  removal 
and  transportation  along  with  the  escort,  and  that  he  wished 
me  to  take  charge  of  it.  He  instructed  me  to  procure  a  suffi 
cient  number  of  wagons  for  the  purpose  and  to  detail  a  guard 
of  fifty  men  under  a  field  officer  for  its  protection,  but  required 
me  to  personally  supervise  every  thing  that  should  be  done. 
This  was  by  no  means  an  agreeable  duty,  especially  as  the 
general  frankly  stated  that  he  did  not  know,  and  that  perhaps 
no  one  knew,  the  exact  amount  of  the  fund,  but  that  he  believed 


388  REMINISCENCES  OF 

it  to  be  between  five  and  six  hundred  thousand  dollars  in  specie  — 
much  the  greater  part  in  gold. 

I  represented  that  if  no  one  knew  what  the  sum  was  it  was  a 
very  unpleasant  responsibility  to  impose  on  an  officer  required  to 
take  charge  of  it.  It  would  be  impossible  for  me,  in  the  limited 
time  allowed,  to  count  the  money,  or  even  approximately  es 
timate  its  amount,  nor  could  I  be  sure  that  the  entire  amount 
would  be  turned  over  to  me.  An  exceedingly  disagreeable  ques 
tion  might  arise,  therefore,  if  a  discrepancy  should  be  subse 
quently  asserted  about  the  sum  which  so  changed  hands.  He 
responded  that  all  of  this  had  been  considered;  that  it  was  unfort 
unate,  but  unavoidable,  and  bade  me  immediately  to  proceed 
to  execute  the  order. 

I  detailed  fifty  picked  men  as  a  guard  and  placed  them  under 
command  of  Col.  Theophilus  Steele  and  four  of  my  best  lieuten 
ants,  and,  having  obtained  six  wagons,  began  at  once  the  work  of 
loading  them  with  the  treasure.  It  was  in  charge,  when  I  com 
menced  the  work,  of  some  fifteen  or  twenty  employes  of  the 
Confederate  treasury  department,  and  I  could  not,  of  course, 
exclude  these  men  from  the  cars,  because  my  men  had  to  receive 
the  treasure  from  them.  While,  therefore,  guards  posted  at 
the  open  doors  of  the  box  cars,  which  contained  the  specie,  pre 
vented  the  entrance  of  all  parties  not  engaged  in  handling  it, 
there  were  so  many  of  these,  and  they  were  so  crowded  in  the 
narrow  space  that  some  of  them  might  have  appropriated  a  con 
siderable  sum  and  the  others  have  not  been  aware  of  it. 

I  have  never  learned  what  was  the  exact  amount  of  this 
treasure.  It  included,  I  believe,  the  Tennessee  state  school 
fund  and  some  two  hundred  and  seventy-five  thousand  dollars 
belonging  to  Richmond  banks,  and  was  all  in  gold  and  silver. 
It  was  packed  in  money  belts,  shot  bags,  a  few  small  iron  chests 
and  wooden  boxes,  some  of  them  of  the  frailest  description. 
I  searched  through  the  cars  by  the  light  of  a  few  tallow  candles, 
and  gathered  up  all  that  was  shown  me  or  that  I  could  find. 
More  than  an  hour  was  occupied  in  transferring  the  treasure 
from  the  cars  to  the  wagons,  and  after  the  latter  had  been 
started  off  and  had  gotten  perhaps  half  a  mile  away,  Lieut.  John 
B.  Cole,  one  of  the  officers  of  the  guard,  rode  up  to  me  and  handed 
over  a  pine  box  which  apparently  contained  between  two 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  389 

thousand  and  three  thousand  dollars  in  gold.  After  the  rest  of  us 
had  left  the  cars  he  had  remained  and  continued  the  search,  and 
in  a  car  which  we  thought  we  had  thoroughly  examined  he  had 
discovered  this  box,  stuck  in  a  corner  and  covered  up  with  a 
piece  of  brown  sacking. 

On  the  next  day,  at  my  urgent  request,  General  Breckinridge 
directed  that  the  guard  should  be  increased  to  two  hundred  men, 
and  he  ordered  me  personally  to  command  it.  I  suggested  that, 
instead  of  composing  it  entirely  of  men  of  my  brigade,  it  should 
be  constituted  of  details  from  all  five.  I  believed  this  would 
be  the  best  method  of  preventing  jealousy  and  suspicion  among 
the  men  of  the  escort,  as  well  as  insure  greater  vigilance.  I 
felt  quite  sure  that  these  details  would  closely  watch  each  other. 
This  plan  was  adopted.  Nearly  the  entire  guard  was  kept 
constantly  on  duty,  day  and  night,  and  at  every  halt  a  majority 
of  the  escort  was  generally  collected  about  the  wagons,  closely 
watching  the  guards. 

At  the  Savannah  River  Mr.  Davis  ordered  that  the  silver 
coin,  amounting  to  one  hundred  and  eight  or  ten  thousand  dollars, 
should  be  paid  to  the  troops  in  partial  discharge  of  the  arrears 
of  pay  due  them.  This  was  accordingly  done.  The  quarter 
masters  of  the  several  brigades  sat  up  during  the  night  counting 
and  dividing  the  money,  and  prorating  it  in  proportion  to  the 
rosters  of  their  respective  commands.  This  procedure  elicited 
a  lively  interest  among  the  prospective  beneficiaries  of  the 
distribution.  A  throng  of  men  surrounded  the  little  frame  house 
where  the  money  was  being  counted  until  after  daybreak,  and 
the  windows  were  blocked  with  the  eager  faces  of  the  interested 
expectants.  The  men  had  seen  and  received  Confederate  money 
in  abundance  for  two  or  three  years  previously,  but  real  money 
had  been  almost  unknown  to  them.  There  is  something  grati 
fying  to  human  nature  in  the  receipt  of  even  depreciated  currency, 
and  to  get  hard  cash  was  inexpressibly  agreeable.  The  men  of 
my  brigade  received  thirty-two  dollars  per  capita,  officers  and 
men  sharing  alike.  General  Breckinridge  was  paid  that  sum, 
and  was,  for  the  purpose,  borne  on  the  roll  of  my  brigade.  At 
Washington,  Ga.,  on  the  next  day,  I  turned  over  what  was 
left  of  the  treasure  to  Mr.  M.  H.  Clarke,  acting  treasurer  of 
the  Confederate  states,  and  was  very  glad  to  get  rid  of  it. 


390  REMINISCENCES  OF  , 

Mr.  Clarke  lived  for  many  years  after  the  war  in  Clarksville, 
Tenn.,  and  was  one  of  the  most  successful  business  men  in  that 
prosperous  little  city. 

Mr.  Davis,  for  some  reason,  gave  orders  that  General  Bragg 
and  his  staff  should  be  paid  each  a  month's  pay  in  gold;  a  dis 
crimination  which  occasioned  some  complaint  among  those 
who  were  not  so  fortunate.  I  was  present  when  Mr.  Clarke 
made  this  specific  distribution,  and  listened  to  a  homily  from 
one  of  the  staff  officers,  which  was  rather  amusing  because  of 
the  seemingly  inconsistent  demand  with  which  it  was  concluded. 
General  Bragg's  ordnance  officer  was  a  major,  or  lieutenant- 
colonel  —  Olladowski  —  I  am  not  sure  of  the  exact  rank,  nor 
indeed  that  I  have  spelled  the  name  correctly.  He  was  an  effi 
cient  officer,  but  not  popular,  because  of  his  peppery  disposition 
and  his  curt  way  of  dealing  with  those  who  had  business  with 
him.  The  cavalry  were  especially  "down  on"  him  because  of 
a  story  that  had  been  current  for  some  time  among  them. 
It  was  reported  that  when  a  certain  cavalry  command  had  sent 
in  a  requisition  for  ammunition  for  small-arms,  he  had  returned 
it  with  the  endorsement: 

"Commanding  General  Say.  No  more  issue  of  ammunition 
to  de  cavalry.  De  cavalry  swap  off  de  ammunition  for  de  butter 
and  de  egg." 

On  this  occasion,  while  Mr.  Clarke  was  engaged  in  counting 
out  the  gold  which  was  to  be  paid  Major  Olladowksi,  the  latter 
suddenly,  and  somewhat  to  the  surprise  of  all  his  auditors, 
broke  outinto  a  fierce  tirade  against  the  precious  metal.  "Blank, 
blank  de  filthy  stuff,"  he  said;  "  I  wish  it  had  never  been  digged 
out  of  de  bowels  of  de  earth.  It  tempt  a  man  to  every  evil.  It 
make  him  false  to  his  friend,  to  his  brudder,  to  his  fader.  It 
make  him  do  all  mean  and  bad  acts.  I  hate  de  sight  of  it." 
Just  then  Clarke  pushed  over  to  him  one  hundred  and  fifty  dol 
lars,  thinking  that  to  be  the  sum  due  him.  But  Olladowski 
was  prompt  to  make  correction.  "Fifteen  dollar  more,  eef 
you  blease,  Misser  Clarke,"  he  quickly  suggested.  "My  pay 
is  $165  per  month." 

Mr.  Clarke  did  not  retain  possession  and  charge  of  the  fund 
very  long,  for  in  two  or  three  days  afterward  the  entire  Confed 
erate  government  was  dissolved  and  its  former  officials  fugitives. 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  391 

I  never  learned  what  ultimately  became  of  the  money,  but  for 
months  afterward,  I  understand,  there  was  a  good  deal  of  interest, 
if  not  excitement,  in  that  part  of  the  country  about  it.  I  believe 
that  there  were  rumours  current  to  the  effect  that  it  had  been 
buried,  and  that  parties  were  organizing  to  search  for  it.  Per 
haps  some  such  legend  will  linger  in  that  region  for  years  to  come. 

The  experience  of  the  disbanded  Confederate  soldiers,  who, 
after  the  final  surrender,  made  their  way  back  to  their  homes, 
or  sought  other  destinations,  was  in  some  instances  interesting 
and  was  varied  by  circumstances,  depending  a  good  deal  upon 
the  temper  and  disposition  of  the  officials  to  whom  they  directly 
surrendered,  and  to  some  extent,  doubtless,  on  their  respective 
ability  to  take  care  of  themselves.  Some  encountered  very 
little  trouble  or  inconvenience;  others  met  with  a  large  share  of 
both.  Nearly  every  man  among  them  has  a  different  story  to 
tell  about  it,  and,  just  as  his  own  personal  experience  happened 
to  be,  remembers  it  with  good  humour  or  resentment.  While 
the  greater  number  in  each  department  surrendered  in  a  body, 
entire  organizations  being  paroled  together,  there  were  many 
who  did  so  individually  or  in  small  parties. 

The  terms  conceded  the  soldiers  of  the  Army  of  Northern 
Virginia  were  more  favourable  than  those  received  by  other 
Confederates,  and  General  Grant  insisted  very  positively  upon 
their  strict  observance.  The  paroles  issued  to  all  were  made  out, 
I  believe,  in  the  same  form,  guaranteeing  the  recipient  the  right 
to  return  to  his  home  and  remain  there  unmolested  so  long  as 
he  obeyed  the  laws  of  the  United  States  and  of  the  state  in  which 
he  resided.  But  other  conditions  than  those  specified  in  the 
printed  form  —  some  of  them  very  galling  —  were  occasionally 
imposed  by  the  officers  issuing  the  paroles;  and  this  was  done, 
probably,  without  authority  either  from  the  government  or 
the  military  commanders,  but  dictated  solely  by  the  discretion 
or  caprice  of  subordinates.  There  is  the  more  reason  for  sup 
posing  this  to  have  been  the  case,  because  the  conditions  were 
quite  variant,  some  being  reasonable  and  some  absolutely  harsh 
and  unnecessarily  offensive. 

One  of  the  requirements  exacted  in  some  instances  was  that, 
after  giving  his  parole,  the  Confederate  should  also  take  the  oath 
of  allegiance  to  the  government  of  the  United  States.  It  seems 


392  REMINISCENCES  OF 

rather  strange  now,  that  any  one  should  have  objected  to  this 
additional  test.  Reason  for  the  reluctance  of  some  of  the  men 
to  submit  to  it,  however,  was  to  be  found,  first,  in  the  fact  that 
the  taking  of  such  an  oath  during  the  continuance  of  the  war  had 
been  held  equivalent  to  desertion;  and,  secondly,  they  seemed 
to  regard  it  as  an  abjuration  of  all  they  had  formerly  believed 
and  professed.  It  was  unreasonable,  nevertheless,  to  require  it, 
inasmuch  as  the  obligations  of  the  parole,  if  faithfully  observed, 
imported  the  rendition  of  such  allegiance.  Many  of  those  who 
obstinately  refused  to  take  the  oath  were  confined  in  the 
stockades  which  had  been  erected  at  different  points,  and 
detained  until  released  by  order  of  officers  of  higher  rank  whose 
attention  was  called  to  the  matter.  A  frequent  condition  im 
posed  was  that  the  paroled  soldier  should  discard  his  uniform, 
or  at  least  cover  the  buttons  of  his  coat  or  jacket  with -cloth; 
when,  as  was  usually  the  case,  the  doffing  of  his  ragged  uniform 
would  have  necessitated  his  appearing  very  nearly  in  the  garb 
of  nature.  It  was  hard  to  understand  how  the  uniform  or  the 
buttons  could  threaten  serious  detriment  to  constituted  authority 
or  the  flag,  when  the  man  who  wore  them  was  unprovided  with 
a  weapon;  but  military  reasoning,  when  exercised  by  the  occu 
pants  of  "bomb-proof"  positions,  is  not  always  easy  to  follow. 
Of  course  there  are  men  in  every  army  who,  lacking  the  more 
generous  spirit  of  the  soldier,  are  eager  to  display,  at  the  expense 
of  the  vanquished  and  the  prisoner,  a  zeal  and  prowess  they  never 
direct  against  an  armed  foe. 

I  was  so  fortunate  as  to  avoid  all  such  unpleasant  complica 
tions,  and  got  through  with  the  procedure  and  formalities  neces 
sary  to  the  abandonment  of  military  and  the  resumption  of  civil 
life,  without  being  subjected  to  any  treatment  which  I  could 
justly  describe  as  being  either  humiliating  or  uncomfortable. 
After  Mr.  Davis  had  quitted  the  five  brigades  which  had  consti 
tuted  his  escort  from  Charlotte,  N.  C,  to  Washington,  Ga., 
and  General  Breckinridge,  commander  of  the  escort  and 
secretary  of  war,  had  instructed  us  all  to  surrender,  I  rode 
with  the  members  of  my  staff,  and  a  few  others,  across  the 
country  to  Augusta,  where  I  and  my  party  surrendered  and  were 
paroled.  We  then  proceeded,  with  quite  a  number  of  others, 
down  the  river  by  steam-boat  to  Savannah,  where,  despite  the 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  393 

exhibition  of  our  paroles,  we  were  placed  for  some  hours  under  a 
guardof  negro  soldiers,  and  threatened  with  avisit  from  the  button 
inspector.  We  were  finally  released,  however,  with  no  serious 
loss  or  alteration  of  raiment.  Four  or  five  of  us,  who  wished  to 
return  as  soon  as  possible  to  Kentucky,  thought  that  our  best 
chance  of  getting  there  without  trouble  or  detention  would  be  to 
go  via  New  York,  believing  that  in  that  city,  and  clad  in  civilian 
dress,  we  would  attract  no  more  notice  than  if  we  had  never 
attempted  the  life  of  the  nation;  that  no  one,  at  any  rate,  other 
than  our  friends  and  acquaintances,  would  be  aware  of  our 
presence  or  feel  at  all  concerned  about  our  movements.  We 
had  determined  upon  this  plan  at  Augusta,  and  in  pursuance 
of  it  had  gone  to  Savannah.  But  it  was  not  without  some  diffi 
culty  and  a  good  deal  of  negotiation  that  we  succeeded  in  obtain 
ing  permission  to  go  to  New  York,  and  there  was  then  the 
further  question  of  how  we  were  to  get  there.  We  were  scantily 
provided  with  greenbacks,  and  the  transportation  problem  was 
a  formidable  one. 

We  learned  that  the  steamship  Arago  was  lying  at  Hilton 
Head,  and  that  she  would,  in  a  day  or  two,  sail  for  New  York. 
She  had  brought  down  a  party  of  Northern  tourists,  who,  immedi 
ately  after  ascertaining  that  the  surrender  of  the  Confederate 
armies  was  general,  had  concluded  to  visit  points  along  the  Atlan 
tic  coast  made  interesting  by  the  events  of  the  war.  We  se 
cured  passage  on  this  vessel,  the  officers  stating  that  they 
would  furnish  us  meals,  but  could  not,  on  account  of  the  crowded 
condition  of  the  boat,  give  us  berths  or  sleeping  accommodations. 
We  were  quite  satisfied  with  this  arrangement,  especially  as  we 
procured  reduced  rates,  2nd  never  doubted  that  we  could 
find  some  part  of  the  deck  soft  enough  to  furnish  a  sufficiently 
comfortable  couch  for  veteran  cavalry  men. 

The  tourists  promenaded  the  upper  deck  all  day  and  until  a 
late  hour  of  night,  but  ime  had  no  conversation  with  them  as 
they  seemed  to  regard  us  with  some  suspicion.  Our  attention 
was  particularly  attracted  by  a  quartette  of  extremely  digni 
fied,  opulent-looking  gentlemen,  who,  we  were  told,  were  from 
Boston.  They  seemed  to  care  only  for  the  society  of  each  other 
and  kept  as  much  aloof  from  the  other  tourists  as  the  tourists 
did  from  us.  But  there  was  one  of  our  party  who,  although  he 


394  REMINISCENCES  OF 

had  not  been  in  the  cavalry,  was  a  man  of  as  alert  intelligence 
as  a  mounted  forager,  and  gifted  with  more  assurance  than  a 
squadron  of  Buttermilk  rangers.  He  was  very  nearly  the 
brightest  and  most  entertaining  man  I  ever  saw  in  a  Confederate 
uniform,  and  one  of  the  bravest  and  best  officers.  This  was  Col. 
Phil  Lee,  of  the  Second  Kentucky  Infantry.  By  some  accident 
Phil  became  acquainted  with  the  Bostonians  and  they  conceived 
a  strong  fancy  for  him.  They  talked  with  him  constantly,  and 
he  completely  deserted  our  company  for  theirs.  We  guyed  him 
about  his  sudden  and  violent  affiliation  with  the  Yankees,  but 
he  answered,  that,  having  done  his  full  duty  to  his  country, 
he  intended  now  to  look  out  for  himself  and  shake  off  all  encum 
bering  associations.  His  new  friends  seemed  never  tired  of  listen 
ing  to  him  and  laughing  at  his  jokes,  and  I  suppose  he  told 
them  every  Confederate  chestnut  current  from  the  Potomac  to 
the  Rio  Grande,  besides  much  of  immediate  invention.  Just 
before  the  Arago  reached  New  York  these  gentlemen  said 
to  him: 

"Colonel  Lee,  you  have  helped  to  make  our  voyage  very  pleas 
ant,  and  have  shown  us  a  side  of  the  Southern  character  that  is 
new  to  us.  Now,  we  would  like  to  do  something  for  you  in  return. 
We  have  no  wish  to  pry  into  your  affairs,  but  it's  quite  probable 
that  after  your  long  absence  in  the  army  they  have  fallen  into 
confusion.  We  are  men  of  some  means  and  have  some  influence 
in  Boston.  If  you  will  come  there  we  will  be  glad  to  aid  you  in 
any  sort  of  business  you  may  prefer." 

"Gentlemen,"  responded  the  colonel,  "this  is  exceedingly 
kind  upon  your  part,  and  I  wouldn't  for  the  world  have  you 
think  that  I  don't  gratefully  appreciate  it.  I  do,  and  thank  you 
very  much.  But  I  can't  accept  your  offer.  It  is  true,"  he  ad 
mitted,  modestly,  "that  I  am  no  longer  the  millionaire  I  once 
was,  but  I  still  have  a  few  town  lots  in  the  city  of  Shepherdsville, 
Ky.,  a  flourishing  city  of  nearly  two  hundred  and  fifty 
inhabitants,  and  I  may  be  able  to  practise  law  in  Kentucky; 
while  I  am  quite  sure  I  couldn't  anywhere  else.  I  am  obliged 
to  decline  your  kind  suggestion.  I  don't  understand  any  sort 
of  business  that  would  pay  in  Boston,  and  am  afraid  I  couldn't 
learn." 

They  heard  this  statement  with  impatience  and  some  indigna- 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  395 

tion.  "Why,  surely,  Colonel  Lee,"  said  one  of  them,  "a  man  of 
your  intelligence  could  learn  some  business." 

The  colonel  pondered  deeply  and  at  length  asked: 

"Have  you  a  city  government  in  Boston?" 

"Why,  you  amaze  me!     Of  course  we  have." 

"Well,  gentlemen,"  said  the  colonel,  with  great  animation, 
"the  matter  looks  better  than  I  thought.  For  the  past  four 
years  I  have  been  engaged  in  the  business  of  attempting  to  break 
up  a  government.  I  haven't  been  very  successful,  it's  true,  but 
I've  rather  learned  the  run  of  it,  and  if  I  should  come  to  Boston 
and  try  to  break  up  your  government  I  might  have  better  luck." 

This  proposition  was  at  first  received  with  grave  displeasure, 
as  if  it  were  an  unaccountable  exhibition  of  treasonable  impu 
dence.  But  soon  all  four  joined  in  a  hearty  burst  of  laughter, 
and  admitted  that  perhaps  the  municipal  government  of  Boston 
might  be  benefited  by  a  little  "breaking  up." 

Phil  used  frequently  to  declare  in  after  years  that  if  matters 
came  to  the  worst  he  would  be  able  to  find  an  asylum  in 
Boston. 

Four  or  five  young  Federal  officers  were  on  the  Arago,  going 
north  on  furlough.  They  were  jolly,  spirited  young  fellows, 
were  in  funds,  having  just  been  paid  off,  and  were  disposed  to 
enjoy  their  liberty  and  money.  They  passed  a  good  deal  of  time 
playing  vingt  et  un,  a  game  not  much  in  vogue  nowadays,  I  be 
lieve,  but  of  which  some  of  my  readers  may  have  heard. 

Col.  Theophilus  Steele,  of  our  party,  ex-commander  of  the 
Seventh  Kentucky  cavalry,  C.  S.  A.,  and  well  known  to  all  of 
Morgan's  division,  and,  indeed,  to  all  of  the  Kentucky  Con 
federates,  for  dashing  courage  and  fondness  for  every  kind  of 
adventure,  entertained  a  strong  desire  to  get  into  this  game, 
but  was  handicapped  by  lack  of  funds.  Our  supply  of  money 
was  very  limited  and  after  paying  our  passage  none  of  us  had 
much  left.  Steele,  however,  had  fifteen  or  twenty  dollars  and  I 
about  as  much.  He  proposed  that  we  should  pool  our  green 
backs  and  that  he,  with  the  joint  amount,  should  try  his  luck 
at  the  table. 

"If  we  lose,"  he  said,  "we'll  be  no  worse  off.  We  haven't 
money  enough  to  take  us  home,  far  less  keep  us  two  or  three 
days  in  New  York;  as  it  is  we'll > have  to  call  on  our  friends: 


396  REMINISCENCES  OF 

while,  if  we  wjn,  we  can  make  ourselves  much  more  comfortable 
on  the  boat." 

I  agreed,  and  Steele,  with  the  stake  thus  provided,  asked  leave 
to  enter  the  game.  The  Federals,  who  had  already  manifested 
a  disposition  to  treat  us  quite  civilly,  readily  consented. 

Any  one  who  understands  the  game  of  vingt  et  un  knows  that 
the  dealer  has  a  great  advantage  over  the  other  players,  and 
that,  according  to  a  certain  rule  of  the  game,  the  deal  is  taken  in 
turn.  The  Federal  officers,  either  because  ignorant  of  this  fact, 
or  from  indifference,  or  in  a  spirit  of  liberality,  relinquished 
their  right  to  deal,  and  permitted  Steele  to  deal  continuously. 
Fortune  also  aided  him.  At  the  expiration  of  the  first  day 
he  reported  his  success,  and  also  that  he  has  secured  from  the 
employes  of  the  steamer  two  small  rooms  with  comfortable 
sleeping  accommodations  —  one  for  me  and  one  for  himself  — 
by  paying  twenty  dollars  for  each  of  them,  good  for  two  nights. 
This  seemed  homelike,  as  smacking  somewhat  of  Confederate 
prices. 

"But,"  I  asked,  "have  you  enough  money  left  to  keep  on 
playing?  Of  course,  you  musn't  'jump  the  game." 

"Oh,  yes,"  he  said;  "I  still  have  the  original  stake  and  nearly 
as  much  more,  and  so  long  as  I'm  dealer,  I'm  not  likely 
to  lose." 

The  second  day  was  very  nearly  a  repetition  of  the  first.  On 
the  third  luck  changed,  and  Steele  lost  at  that  sitting.  But 
at  the  conclusion  of  the  game  we  were,  in  addition  to  the  cost 
of  the  two  nights'  comfortable  rest,  still  considerably  ahead. 

The  young  officers  were  "dead  game  sports"  and  congratu 
lated  Steele,  saying  they  were  glad  "there  was  one  game  at  which 
a  Confederate  could  yet  win." 

We  invested  out  winnings  in  wine  for  our  party  and  the  officers, 
and  fraternized  very  pleasantly. 

Colonel  Lee,  however,  retaliated  for  our  gibes  about  his  inti 
macy  with  the  Bostonians  by  expressing  regret  and  disgust  that 
an  ex-Confederate  brigadier  and  ex-Confederate  colonel  should 
begin  their  return  to  civil  life  by  entering  into  a  gambling  partner 
ship  and  robbing  men  who  had  been  fighting  for  the  old  flag. 

Although  New  York  was  not  then  nearly  so  large  and  populous 
as  it  is  now,  it  seemed  incredibly  big  and  crowded  to  men  accus- 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  397 

tomed  to  the  little  cities  of  the  South.  I  had  forgotten  how  the 
great  metropolis  looked,  and  its  vast  dimensions  and  roaring 
traffic,  compared  with  what  I  had  more  recently  seen  of  urban 
life,  struck  me  with  amazement  and  almost  consternation. 
I  could  understand  that  the  people  living  there  had  only  known 
that  a  war  had  been  raging  in  one  part  of  their  own  country  by 
the  fluctuations  of  the  Gold  Board.  We  had  every  reason  to 
appreciate  the  reception  given  us  by  our  Southern  friends  there, 
who  did  everything  for  us  that  was  possible,  while  even  the 
most  loyal  New  Yorker  seemed  to  care  very  little  about  what  the 
politics  of  any  other  man  might  be. 

I  have  said  that  the  treatment  received  by  each  Confederate, 
at  the  date  of  his  surrender  very  largely  influences  his  remem 
brance  of  that  event.  The  character  of  his  experience  within  a 
brief  period  after  the  close  of  the  war  doubtless  had,  in  every 
individual  case,  much  to  do  with  the  "acceptance  of  the  situa 
tion."  Those  who  had  been  the  recipients  in  greater  degree  of 
kindness  and  courtesy  were  usually  the  earliest  reconciled; 
while  the  "unreconstructed"  were,  as  a  rule,  those  who  had  felt 
or  witnessed  harsher  dealing.  Sometimes  apparently  quite 
trivial  circumstances  would  serve  to  soften  bitter  and  resentful 
feeling.  My  own  memory  furnishes  more  than  one  recollection 
of  the  truth  of  this. 

About  two  months  after  I  had  returned  home,  I  revisited  the 
South,  but  this  time  on  a  peaceful  and  commercial  mission. 
At  the  date  at  which  I  had  been  paroled  in  Augusta,  Ga., 
cotton,  of  which  there  was  a  great  deal  in  that  region,  was 
selling  at  a  very  low  price.  It  occurred  to  me  that  the  specula 
tion  so  offered  ought  to  prove  profitable,  so  I  went  back  to 
Augusta  to  buy  cotton.  After  buying  as  much  as  my  very  limited 
capital  would  permit,  I  took  a  contract  to  raise  and  carry  to 
Augusta  a  barge  load  of  cotton  which  had  been  wrecked  and 
sunk  in  the  Savannah  River,  about  ten  miles  below  the  city. 
I  employed  a  gang  of  twenty  or  thirty  negroes  and  remained  with 
them,  superintending  their  work,  for  ten  days  or  two  weeks, 
sleeping  every  night  on  low  ground  near  the  bank  of  the  stream. 
As  a  consequence,  I  contracted  the  .fever  so  common  in  that 
country,  and  which,  if  not  fatal,  is  always  pernicious  and  debili 
tating.  After  lying  in  bed  at  Augusta  for  two  weeks  and  then 


398  REMINISCENCES  OF 

winding  up  business  as  best  I  could,  I  started  again  for  Kentucky 
in  very  bad  shape. 

Desiring  to  visit  St.  Louis  on  the  way,  where  I  had  some  ante 
bellum  affairs  still  unsettled,  I  took  the  most  direct  rail  route 
for  Memphis,  and,  as  the  roads  were  then  in  very  bad  condition, 
was  several  days  in  making  the  distance,  travelling  a  consider 
able  part  of  it  in  box  cars.  That  sort  of  thing  was  not  comfort 
able  for  a  sick  man,  nor  peculiarly  conducive  to  an  amiable  temper. 

One  morning  about  nine  o'clock,  I  was  sitting  on  the  plat 
form  of  a  station  where  I  would  have  to  change  cars  and  waiting 
for  my  train,  when  my  attention  was  attracted  to  a  squad  of 
Federal  soldiers  who  had  evidently  been  on  guard  during  the 
night,  but  at  the  time  I  saw  them  were  getting  their  breakfast. 
They  were  well  supplied  with  rations  and  seemed  in  high  spirits. 
Just  then  I  caught  sight  of  a  lank,  hungry-looking  fellow  who 
was  unmistakably  an  ex-Confederate.  He  wore  a  ragged,  faded, 
gray  jacket  with  the  buttons  cut  off,  a  pair  of  most  dilapidated 
blue  trousers  and  had  an  old  canvas  haversack,  as  empty  as 
extra  sidereal  space,  hung  around  his  neck.  If  he  had  eaten  a 
square  meal  within  six  months  past  his  jaws  and  belly  were 
villanous  deceptions.  He  was  partially  hidden  behind  a  cotton 
bale,  whence  he  was  watching  the  Yankee  spread  with  eyes  that 
threatened  to  protrude  across  the  intervening  distance. 

Nearly  about  the  time  that  I  first  saw  him,  the  Yanks  also 
caught  sight  of  him.  They  held  a  short  consultation,  then  one 
of  them  sprang  up,  started  toward  him,  and  shouted  out,  "Hello, 
reb!  Come  this  way;  we  want  you." 

For  some  reason  —  perhaps  because  J  was  sick  and  peevish  — 
I  conceived  the  idea  that  they  wanted  to  arrest  him,  and  my  blood 
boiled  with  indignation  at  what  I  considered  so  totally  an  unpro 
voked  act  of  oppression. 

The  "Johnnie"  evidently  entertained  the  same  opinion,  for 
he  began  a  rather  rapid  retreat.  A  fresh  summons,  however, 
reinforced  by  a  volley  of  oaths,  induced  him  to  turn  and  approach 
the  party,  which  he  did  with  an  attempted  dignity  of  demeanour 
that  appeared  very  ludicrous  as  compared  with  his  previous 
hasty  retrograde  movement.  But  when  he  reached  the  spot 
where  the  grub  was  they  seized  him,  made  him  sit  down,  and  all 
exerted  themselves  to  appease  his  manifest  hunger. 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  399 

I  have  known  some  extraordinary  feeders,  but  I  honestly  be 
lieve  that  I  have  never  seen  any  two  other  men  eat  as  much 
as  that  fellow  did.  He  kept  at  it  steadily  for  not  less  than  an 
hour,  the  Yanks  aiding  and  encouraging  him  to  the  utmost. 
He  drank  six  tin  cups  full  of  coffee.  He  swelled  visibly,  and  I 
wondered  how  his  frail  garments  stood  the  tension. 

When  he  at  length  finished,  his  captors  crammed  his  weather- 
beaten  old  haversack  full  of  hardtack  and  bacon  and  sent  him  on 
his  way  rejoicing. 

It  is  scarcely  necessary  to  say  that  my  own  feelings  in  regard 
to  the  incident  had  very  materially  changed  during  its  progress. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

IT  IS  difficult  for  this  generation  to  conceive,  far  more  so  to 
understand,  the  change  wrought  by  the  Civil  War,  not  only 
in  the  states  which  had  constituted  the  Southern  Confeder 
acy,  but  in  the  border  states  which  had  been  slave-holding.  No 
such  metamorphosis,  perhaps,  has  been  produced  in  so  brief 
a  period  —  none  like  it,  at  any  rate,  has  been  recorded  in  modern 
history  —  unless  it  be  that  accomplished  in  France  by  the  great 
revolution.  The  alterations  in  social  and  economic  conditions, 
in  political  relations,  in  habits  of  thought,  in  the  very  mode  of 
living,  can  scarcely  be  imagined  by  those  who  have  no  personal 
knowledge  of  the  former  status.* 

This  change  was  perceptible  so  soon  as  the  war  was  ended. 
It  was  apparent  everywhere  and  in  everything.  The  life  of  the 
post-bellum  South  no  more  resembled  that  of  the  other,  than  the 
life  of  the  early  settlers  of  this  continent  was  like  that  they  had 
left  on  the  other  side  of  the  ocean.  The  material  effects  of  multi 
tudinous  invasion  and  protracted  warfare  upon  Virginia  and  the 
more  southern  states  had  been  such  as  to  reduce  all  of  that 
territory  to  one  vast  wreckage.  Tennessee  had  fared  somewhat, 
but  not  much,  better.  Kentucky  and  Missouri  had  furnished 
fields  for  the  conflict  and  suffered  no  small  loss  in  its  general 
havoc,  and  Maryland  had  not  altogether  escaped.  The  insti 
tution  of  slavery  was  gone.  The  negro  was  free,  idle,  unquiet, 
but  far  from  contented.  His  imagination  was  excited  to  vague 
and  impossible  aspirations,  and  his  soul  troubled  by  a  short 
harvest  in  his  immediate  expectations  and  a  painful  apprehension 
of  future  disappointment.  A  great  triumph  for  humanity  had 
been  achieved,  and  a  social  conflict  between  the  white  and  black 
races  inaugurated.  The  labour  system  of  the  South  was  dis 
organized  completely  for  the  time  being,  and  with  little  prospect 
of  its  early  restoration. 

The  political  situation  was,  if  possible  even  more  greatly 
changed.  Shortly  before  the  beginning  of  the  war  the  South 

400 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  401 

had  been  dominant  in  national  affairs  and  the  government  of 
the  country.  •  For  many  years  previously,  no  candidate  for 
the  Presidency  who  was  not  supposed  to  be  amenable  to  Southern 
influence  could  hope  to  be  successful;  and  even  at  the  date  of 
Mr.  Lincoln's  election,  sympathy  for  Southern  ideas  and  inter 
ests  was  so  prevalent  as  to  largely  direct  national  legislation. 
In  this,  too,  there  had  been  a  complete  reversal.  At  the  close 
of  the  war,  the  bare  suspicion  that  it  might  meet  the  wishes  of 
the  Southern  people  or  find  Southern  endorsement  was  enough 
to  turn  the  overwhelming  majority  of  the  North  and  East  against 
any  policy  or  measure,  however  just  and  salutary  it  might  be; 
and  latitude  became  very  nearly  the  only  test  of  loyalty. 

The  people  who  had  remained  at  their  homes  in  the  South 
during  the  continuance  of  hostilities,  and  after  the  occupation 
by  the  Federal  armies  of  the  territory  in  which  they  lived,  had 
become  gradually  and  in  a  measure  accustomed  to  the  new  order; 
although  it  bore  hard  upon  them  and  was  not  easy  to  realize. 
But  upon  the  Confederate  soldiers  just  returned  from  the  ranks 
it  broke  with  sudden  and  appalling  revelation.  They  could 
no  more  recognize  the  old  landmarks  than  could  trie  sons  of 
Noah  have  identified  the  old  home  farm  after  the  subsidence  of 
the  deluge.  There  was,  of  what  they  had  once  known,  scarcely 
anything  left;  and  adaptation  to  the  new  conditions  seemed  atfirst 
impossible.  Few  of  them  had,  at  any  time  during  the  struggle, 
doubted  of  ultimate  success.  Accustomed  during  the  two  last 
years  of  the  war  to  reverses,  they  had,  nevertheless,  never 
dreamed  of  the  final  disaster,  but  hoped  and  trusted  to  the  last. 
Perhaps  defeat  was  not  so  bitter  and  the  actual  results  of  subju 
gation  scarcely  so  dreadful  as  they  had  imagined;  but  the  reality 
was  sufficiently  harsh,  and  taxed  their  endurance  to  the  utmost. 
They  had  known  and  been  taught  nothing  in  their  military 
service  —  full  of  trial  as  it  was  —  to  tame  their  pride  or  subdue 
their  native  spirit.  They  had  become  veteran  in  resolution  and 
knowledge  of  warfare,  patient  of  physical  privation,  disciplined, 
in  so  far  as  attention  to  duty  and  obedience  to  command  might 
be  so  termed,  but  had  learned  nothing  of  that  unthinking  auto 
matic  submission  to  authority  which  is  supposed  to  characterize 
the  professional  soldier.  On  the  contrary,  their  experience  in 
the  army  had  intensified  the  feeling  with  which  their  earlier 


402  REMINISCENCES  OF 

education  and  associations  had  imbued  them,  and  made  them  ever 
more  strongly  attached  to  and  jealous  of  their  personal  rights. 
They  had  given  their  paroles  in  good  faith;  proposing  perfectly 
to  observe  them  and  faithfully  obey  the  laws  and  the  authority 
of  the  United  States  government;  few,  if  any  of  them,  I  believe, 
desired  or  expected  to  take  part  in  politics.  But  they  had  totally 
misconceived,  or  rather  had  not  anticipated,  the  nature  of  the  obe 
dience  they  would  be  expected  to  render.  They  had  supposed 
that  they  would  be  subject  to  law  as  they  had  previously  under 
stood  the  meaning  of  the  term;  law  administered  according  to 
statutes  duly  enacted,  and  by  courts  and  magistrates  formally 
and  specially  appointed  for  such  purpose  —  courts  in  some 
measure  trained  to  the  dispensation  of  justice.  They  had  not 
hoped  for  much  share  in  the  selection  of  such  officials,  nor  that 
the  official  machinery,  however  selected,  would  be  much  in 
sympathy  with  them.  But  they  had  expected  something  like 
the  impartiality  which  regularly  constituted  tribunals  cannot 
easily  refuse. 

Such  expectation,  however,  proved  fallacious.  Even  in 
Kentucky  the  courts  were  well-nigh  impotent,  and  martial  law 
virtually  prevailed  at  the  close  of  hostilties.  The  military 
authority  overshadowed  all  other  until  the  election  of  1866, 
when  by  a  supreme  effort  the  people  resumed  control.  In  Mis 
souri  these  unfortunate  conditions  endured  for  a  much  longer 
period.  In  the  states  which  had  seceded,where  the  state  govern 
ments  had  formally  acknowledged  the  authority  of  the  Confed 
eracy  and  had  enlisted  troops  in  its  defense,  there  was,  for  years 
after  the  termination  of  actual  warfare,  visually  no  semblance 
of  law  in  its  ordinary  meaning  or  usage,  no  tribunal  or  procedure 
not  recognized  and  controlled  by  the  will  of  the  military.  The 
commandants  of  the  troops  still  stationed  in  the  South,  after  the 
main  armies  were  removed,  exercised  for  some  months  immedi 
ately  afterward  a  curious  jurisdiction  which  embraced  nearly  all 
matters  and  cases,  civil  and  criminal.  It  is  true  that  the  Federal 
soldiery  —  many  of  them  at  least  —  felt  a  certain  commiseration 
for  their  former  opponents,  and  even  for  the  citizens  of  the 
afflicted  region,  and  evinced  an  irregular  and  capricious  justice 
in  dealing  with  them.  But  such  rude  methods  were  not  adapted 
to  either  dispasssionate  consideration  or  fair  adjustment  of 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  403 

disputes;  and,  by  the  parties  who  happened  to  be  in  political  dis 
favour  or  under  the  ban  of  suspicion,  were  not  held  in  much 
esteem.  In  all  controversies  between  whites  and  blacks,  the 
Freedman's  Bureau  claimed  exclusive  right  to  hear  and  determine; 
and  as  the  negro  was  always  fully  and  favourably  heard  and 
generally  got  the  decision,  he  availed  himself  extensively  of  so 
valuable  a  privilege. 

The  most  absurd  complaints  were  entertained  by  this  tribunal. 
At  the  time  when  it  was  most  flourishing;  Gen.  Wade  Hamp 
ton  invited  a  friend  from  Kentucky  to  visit  him  at  his  Missis 
sippi  plantation,  giving  a  number  of  reasons  why  the  friend  would 
enjoy  the  visit.  "But,"  said  the  Kentuckian,  after  many  items 
had  been  enumerated,  "what  about  your  whiskey?" 

"Well,"  replied  Hampton,  "It's  good  enough  for  a  white  man, 
but  if  I  should  pass  it  off  on  a  nigger,  he'd  have  me  before  the 
Bureau." 

Deplorable  and  anomalous  as  all  this  was,  it  was,  perhaps,  under 
the  circumstances,  in  a  measure  inevitable.  The  courts  and  all 
magisterial  officers,  who  had  exercised  any  function  during  the 
brief  continuance  of  the  Confederacy  were  of  course  deposed  — 
their  commissions  annulled  —  so  soon  as  the  Confederacy  had 
fallen,  and  could  not  be  immediately  replaced.  The  sagacity, 
kindly  feeling,  and  commanding  influence  of  Mr.  Lincoln  might 
have  solved  the  problem  more  promptly  and  humanely;  but  to  re 
duce  this  weltering  chaos  to  order  was  a  task  impossible  for  either 
Andrew  Johnson  or  the  Congress,  and  every  thing  attempted 
by  either  only  seemed  to  make  confusion  worse  confounded. 

It  soon  became  apparent  that  to  hold  and  treat  these  states 
merely  as  conquered  territory  was  a  policy  both  too  costly  and 
too  dangerous;  nor  would  the  most  fanatical  and  implacable 
Northern  sentiment  consent  to  anything  quite  so  drastic.  But 
when  the  time  came  to  begin  the  political  "rehabilitation," 
to  use  a  phrase  much  in  vogue  at  that  date,  the  trouble,  instead 
of  diminishing,  increased.  Incited  by  the  hope  of  illicit  gain  — 
in  modern  parlance,  "graft" — for  which  this  new  field  of  spec 
ulation  offered  abundant  and  inviting  opportunity,  greedy  adven 
turers  flocked  in  from  the  North  and  found  colleagues,  already 
in  the  South,  as  eager  as  themselves  and  even  more  unscrupulous. 
The  negro  having  the  sympathy  of  the  party  dominant  in  the 


404  REMINISCENCES  OF 

Nation  and  entitled,  in  some  form,  to  recognition,  became  their 
blind  and  useful  tool.  Distrusting,  not  unnaturally,  those  who 
had  opposed  his  enfranchisement,  and  inclined  by  nature  to 
side  with  those  who  exhibited  the  symbols  of  authority,  he 
allied  himself  at  once  with  the  carpet-bagger  and  the  scalla- 
wag  and  implicitly  did  their  bidding. 

"Reconstruction"  was  attempted  by  similar  methods  and 
accompanied  by  similar  acts  in  each  of  the  states  which  had  se 
ceded.  Its  history  in  any  one  of  them,  with  changes  only  in 
names,  dates,  and  comparatively  unimportant  circumstances, 
may  be  safely  accepted  as  true  of  all  the  others.  It  was,  of 
course,  inevitable  and  expected  by  every  one  that  the  people 
of  these  states  would  be  required  to  undergo  some  kind  of  pro 
bation  before  they  were  accorded  complete  restoration  to  the 
rights  they  had  formerly  possessed  as  citizens  of  the  United 
States.  It  was  also  expected,  and  was  entirely  logical  and 
proper,  that  the  "Union  men"  of  those  states  should  chiefly 
conduct  this  process  of  rehabilitation.  But  no  intelligent  man 
expected,  and  no  patriotic  or  conservative  man  desired,  no  matter 
what  may  have  been  his  previous  political  affiliation,  any  such 
condition  as  prevailed  in  the  South  for  eleven  years,  crowded 
with  mischief  and  disaster  and  which  bequeathed  evils  scarcely 
yet  cured.  No  one  expected  to  see  the  suddenly  emancipated 
slave  raised  to  political  equality  with  even  the  loyal  white,  and 
an  attempt  made  to  elevate  him  above  his  former  master,  if  that 
master  had  been  a  "rebel." 

No  thoughtful  or  honest  man  imagined  that  the  persons  and 
property  of  millions  of  unfortunate  people  were  to  be  virtually 
placed  at  the  mercy  of  a  horde  of  political  banditti,  whose  only 
principle  was  lust  and  purpose  of  plunder  and  whose  only  political 
sentiment  was  malignant  hatred  of  those  whom  they  robbed  and 
persecuted. 

Had  Mr.  Lincoln  lived  to  execute  his  hope  and  plan  for  the 
reestablishment  of  harmony  and  Union,  much,  if  not  all,  of 
this  fearful  experience  would  have  been  averted.  In  Andrew 
Johnson  such  reconstruction  found  its  fit  instrument.  He  was 
the  very  incarnation  of  its  malign,  remorseless,  dastard  spirit, 
and  he  began  the  congenial  work  with  zeal  and  alacrity. 

It  is  true  that  in  the  latter  part  of  his  Presidential  term,  when 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  405 

he  had  quarrelled  with  every  leading  man  in  his  party,  Johnson 
sought  to  obstruct  some  of  the  reconstructive  legislation.  But 
in  so  doing  he  was  actuated  by  no  feeling  of  justice  or  compassion, 
no  desire  to  shield  the  stricken  people  of  the  South  from  further 
oppression,  but  solely  by  jealousy  of  men  who  had  unexpectedly 
become  his  rivals.  It  is  but  just  to  say,  however,  that  while 
much  individual  hardship  was  inflicted  by  the  harsh  conditions 
imposed  immediately  after  the  close  of  the  war,  upon  all  who  had 
been  prominently  connected  with  the  Confederate  cause,  the 
really  serious,  deadly  menace  to  the  peace  and  prosperity  of  the 
South  was  contained  in  the  acts  passed  to  compel  the  ratification 
of  the  Fourteenth  Amendment  to  the  Constitution,  the  effect 
of  which  was  to  give  the  negro  suffrage.  Inasmuch  as  the 
requisite  number  of  the  states,  whose  ratification  was  necessary 
to  the  final  adoption  of  the  Amendment,  could  not  be  procured 
unless  some  of  the  Southern  states  were  made  to  vote  for  it, 
congress  resolved  to  coerce  such  action.  An  absolutely  essen 
tial  preliminary  to  the  accomplishment  of  this  purpose  was  the 
disfranchisement  of  the  majority  of  the  white  men  of  those 
states.  Accordingly,  by  an  act  entitled,  "  An  Act  for  the  More 
Efficient  Government  of  the  States  Recently  in  Rebellion," 
passed  March  2,  1867,  such  states  were  divided  into  military 
districts,  to  each  of  which  a  military  commander  was  assigned 
who  was  empowered  to  organize  military  commissions  to  try 
offences  against  his  orders  and  regulations;  and  by  an  act  passed 
July  19,  1867,  the  boards  of  registration,  provided  by  legislation 
of  March  23,  1867,  were  given  authority  and  required,  "before 
allowing  the  registration  of  any  person,  to  ascertain  upon  such 
facts  or  information  as  they  can  obtain,  whether  such  person  is 
entitled  to  be  registered  under  said  act,  and  the  oath  required 
by  such  act  shall  not  be  conclusive  on  such  question,  and  none 
shall  be  registered  unless  such  board  shall  decide  that  he  is 
entitled  thereto." 

Before  he  could  vote  a  man  must  have  registered,  and,  of 
course,  these  boards  of  registration  had  entire  control  over  all 
elections;  no  man  without  their  permission  could  become  a  quali 
fied  voter.  If  any  were  bold  enough  to  take  issue  with  them  or 
resent  their  decrees,  the  authority  of  the  military  commission 
to  try  and  punish  such  "offences"  was  promptly  invoked  and  as 


4o6  REMINISCENCES  OF 

promptly  utilized.  No  form  of  tyranny  more  absolutely  despotic 
could  have  been  devised,  and  that  the  communities  subjected  to 
it  escaped  complete  and  degrading  subjugation  seems  miraculous. 

Primarily  intended,  as  I  have  said,  to  compel  the  ratification 
of  the  Constitutional  Amendment,  this  system  was  still  further 
prostituted  and  applied  to  yet  baser  uses.  It  furnished  the 
class  of  politicians  of  which  I  have  spoken  the  means  of  obtaining 
control  of  the  state  governments  and  legislatures,  and  of  inaugu 
rating  an  era  of  extravagance  and  speculation  which  threatened 
each  state  with  bankruptcy  and  the  whole  region  with  hopeless 
impoverishment.  Fortunately  the  lust  of  plunder  was  so  fierce, 
and  even  that  sort  of  honour  which  is  said  to  obtain  among  thieves 
so  lacking  in  the  vile  adventurers  who  attempted  this  policy, 
that  they  invariably  fell  to  quarrelling  among  themselves  when 
ever  the  booty  would  not  well  bear  sharing.  At  every  such 
division  and  the  contests  necessarily  resulting  for  possession 
of  the  state  offices,  by  manipulation  of  which  the  plunder 
was  gotten,  opportunity  was  afforded  those  for  whose 
oppression  this  infamous  machinery  had  been  invented,  to 
better  their  conditions. 

Taking  part  sometimes  with  one  side,  sometimes  with  the 
other  —  and  as  a  rule  each  was  equally  bad  and  corrupt  — the 
Southern  whites  whose  disfranchisement  had  been  intended  grad 
ually  acquired  the  mastery.  The  Fourteenth  Amendment  was 
ratified  and  the  negro  became  a  voter;  but  even  the  negro  vote 
became,  in  large  measure,  influenced  by  the  white  element 
whose  political  domination,  whose  political  existence,  indeed,  it 
had  been  expected  to  destroy. 

The  whites  were  also  largely  aided  in  their  efforts  by  the 
friendly  sentiment  of  the  United  States  soldiers  stationed  in 
Southern  garrisons.  The  military  commission,  composed  usually 
of  fanatical  partisans,  meant  mischief  and  gave  much  trouble 
but,  as  a  rule,  the  military  otherwise,  officers  and  men  alike, 
were  reluctant  to  interfere  in  political  controversy,  and  not  only 
sympathized  with  the  whites  against  the  blacks,  but  usually 
with  the  "rebels"  against  the  "carpet-baggers." 

But  that  which  above  all  else  served  to  rescue  these  people 
was  their  own  indomitable  spirit.  Nor  can  it  be  denied  that 
their  courage  and  resolute  perseverance  was  assisted  by  an 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  407 

astute  intelligence  such  as  has  seldom  been  manifested  in  an  or 
deal  so  trying.  For  a  time  congress  seemed  disposed  to  abandon 
all  other  business  in  the  effort  to  legislate  the  South  into  sub 
mission  to  the  corrupt  rule  of  the  tramp  politician  and  acquies 
cence  in  negro  equality.  To  all  else  that  the  victors  dictated 
she  yielded  silent  assent,  but  these  things  she  would  not  have. 
Her  determined  resistance  preserved  her  own  civilization, 
and  averted  a  great  shame  and  evil  from  the  whole  country 
and  its  history. 

Had  the  condition  to  which  a  band  of  audacious  and  unscrupu 
lous  men  in  the  South  sought  to  subject  that  section  been  suc 
cessfully  and  permanently  imposed;  had  the  backing  those 
men  for  a  time  received  from  a  misinformed  Northern  sentiment 
been  one  whit  more  general  and  persistent;  had  the  Northern 
people  remained  undeceived  as  to  the  true  purpose  and  character 
of  those  men;  or  had  the  masses  of  the  Southern  whites  wearied 
or  relaxed,  in  the  least,  in  their  stubborn  opposition  —  remedi 
less  ruin  would  have  overwhelmed  the  South,  and  we  may 
reasonably  believe  that  the  evil  would  not  have  been  confined 
entirely  to  her  territory. 

At  no  time  during  the  Civil  War  were  the  people  of  the  South 
required  to  display  a  fortitude  greater  than  that  which  they 
exhibited  during  those  memorable  years.  Never  upon  any  of 
the  bloody  fields  where  Southern  valour  was  so  conspicuous, 
was  braver  conduct  inspired  by  patriotic  devotion  than  in  that 
long,  dreary  struggle  against  fanatical  hate  and  brutal  cupidity. 

Kentucky  escaped  the  evil  effects  of  reconstruction,  chiefly 
because  its  methods  could  not  be  consistently  employed  within 
her  borders.  Legislation  intended  "  for  the  more  efficient  govern 
ment  of  the  states  recently  in  rebellion,"  could  not  logically, 
or  by  any  stretch  of  construction,  be  applied  to  a  state  which 
had  never  actually  been  in  rebellion.  While  the  greater  part 
of  the  population  of  Kentucky  was  in  sentiment  strongly  with 
the  South,  she  had  never  formally,  or  by  any  legislative  or  exec 
utive  action,  taken  part  with,  the  Confederacy.  The  state 
government  had  been  during  the  entire  war  in  the  hands  of 
men  who  had  professed  and  rendered  allegiance  to  the  govern 
ment  of  the  United  States,  and  notwithstanding  that  her  people 
were  more  than  suspected  of  disloyal  feeling,  and  punishment 


4o8  REAflNISCENCES  OF 

had  been  freely  inflicted  for  every  act  which  could  in  anywise 
be  regarded  as  inimical  to  the  Federal  authority,  Kentucky  was 
counted  among  the  states  loyal  to  the  Union. 

A  convention  of  her  citizens  held  at  Russellville  on  the  i8th 
of  November,  1861,  in  which  sixty-five  counties  of  the  state 
were  represented,  had,  indeed,  passed  an  ordinance  of  secession 
and  adopted  a  provisional  form  of  government.  But  although 
the  validity  of  this  action  was  recognized  by  the  Confederate 
government,  it  was  denied  by  the  government  of  the  United 
States.  The  latter  could,  therefore,  on  no  pretext,  hold  or  treat 
Kentucky  as  a  seceded  state.  Fortunately,  also,  the  large  major 
ity  of  the  Union  men  of  Kentucky  and  those  who  were  in  control 
at  the  close  of  the  war  of  the  state  government  were  exceedingly 
conservative  and  immovably  opposed  to  the  extreme  measures 
which  the  more  fanatical  desired  to  inaugurate.  They  promptly 
repealed  the  statutes  disfranchising  the  Kentuckians  who  had 
served  in  the  Confederate  army  and  restored  them  their  former 
rights  as  citizens.  The  result  was  that,  notwithstanding  the 
effort  of  the  radicals  and  some  military  interference  at  the  polls, 
the  conservatives  and  returned  Confederates  conbined,  won  a 
decisive  victory  in  the  elections  of  August,  1 866,  and  all  danger 
like  that  with  which  the  South  was  threatened,  was  avoided. 

One  of  the  most  remarkable  and  at  the  same  time  natural 
outgrowths  of  the  immediate  post-bellum  social  and  political 
conditions  in  the  South  was  the  sudden  existence  and  wide  exten 
sion  of  the  secret  organization  known  as  the  Ku  Klux  Klan. 
It  seems  to  be  well  established  that  this  organization  which 
became  so  famous  and  certainly  exerted  a  very  potent  influence 
originated  in  Tennessee  sometime  in  the  latter  part  of  the  year 
1866.  It  has  been  claimed,  and  probably  correctly,  that  it  be 
gan  as  a  small  social  club  or  society  of  young  men  in  the  little 
town  of  Pulaski,  and  was  formed  merely  as  a  means  of  amuse 
ment.  The  high  sounding  and  fantastic  nomenclature  of  its 
officers,  "Cyclops,"  "Grand  Wizard,"  etc.,  and  the  grotesque 
ceremonial  with  which  it  was  reported  its  members  were  ini 
tiated,  induces  credence  of  this  statement.  However  that  may 
be,  the  circumstances  of  the  period  and  locality  soon  caused  it 
to  be  used  for  quite  other  purposes, 'and  it  became  an  agency  by 
which  quite  serious  and  important  results  were  accomplished. 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  409 

The  intolerate  rule  of  the  military  commissions,  acting  at  the 
instigation  and  governed  by  the  advice  of  men  as  bad  as  any 
civilized  community  has  ever  produced,  the  arbitrary  and  some 
times  oppressive  orders  of  the  commanders  of  districts,  the 
general  state  of  affairs,  indeed,  in  the  South,  which  I  have 
attempted  to  describe,  had  wrought  the  temper  of  the  people 
so  treated  to  an  extreme  and  dangerous  tension.  Denied  all 
other  relief,  they  sought  it  by  methods  which,  under  similar 
conditions,  the  oppressed  have  so  often  employed.  Refused 
all  proper  remedy,  they  resolved  to  find  some  kind  of  remedy. 
Remonstrance  and  peaceful  opposition  had  proven  futile;  there 
was  no  legal  tribunal  to  which  an  appeal  could  be  made;  open 
resistance  was  impossible.  Whatever  might  be  done,  must,  of 
necessity,  be  done  secretly  or  in  such  wise  as  to  prevent  discovery 
of  the  instrumentality  by  which  it  was  done.  The  organization 
of  the  Ku  Klux,  whatever  may  have  been  its  origin,  furnished 
just  the  machinery  requisite  for  the  policy  they  meant  to  pursue. 

While  many  things  combined,  as  I  have  said,  to  demand  such 
action,  its  immediate  inducement  seems  to  have  been  the  origi 
nation  of  the  Union  League.  This  organization  was  composed 
chiefly  of  negroes,  nearly  all  of  whom  were  herded  into  it,  but 
was  officered  and  directed  by  white  men  who  advocated  the  most 
objectionable  features  of  the  scheme  of  reconstruction  and  especi 
ally  such  as  promised  lucrative  returns.  Some  of  these  —  and 
perhaps  the  worst  —  were  men,  natives  and  residents  of  the 
South,  who  had  previously  affected  the  strongest  Southern  senti 
ment,  but  had  become  apostate  in  every  sense. 

The  object  of  the  Ku  Klux  Klan  was  to  combat  the  efforts 
of  this  organization,  to  weaken  its  hold  upon  the  negroes,  and, 
undoubtedly,  to  prevent  the  latter,  so  far  as  possible,  from  vot 
ing.  It  proposed  also  to  effect  this  purpose  by  intimidation  —  not 
intimidation,  however,  accomplished  by  physical  violence,  but 
adroitly  addressed  to  the  negro's  superstitious  beliefs.  Little 
that  was  cruel  or  brutal  was  at  any  time  done,  I  believe,  by  the 
real  Ku  Klux;  although  certain  organizations  of  much  later  date 
and  which  assumed  the  same  title  did  perpetrate  many  dastardly 
deeds.  A  story  was  told  me  by  one,  who  was  perhaps  a  witness 
of  the  incident  he  related,  which  very  well  illustrates,  no  doubt, 
the  nature  of  the  Ku  Klux  procedure.  An  elderly  negro 


4io  REMINISCENCES  OF 

preacher,  very  influential  with  the  coloured  people  of  his  vicin 
age,  had  attained  considerable  prominence  in  the  Union  League, 
and  was  the  principal  medium  of  communication  between  its 
white  leaders  and  their  black  retainers  in  that  locality.  He  lived 
in  a  whistewashed,  double  log-cabin  near  Lauvergne,  between 
Nashville  and  Murfreesboro.  The  cabin  was  situated  in  a  small 
yard  and  about  forty  yards  from  the  pike.  I,  myself,  remem 
ber  the  spot  quite  well,  and  had  often  passed  it  during 
the  war. 

This  place  was  the  headquarters  of  all  the  negro  politicians 
in  that  part  of  the  county.  The  preacher  would  hold  meetings 
on  Tuesday  and  Friday  evenings,  reciting,  the  instructions  issued 
by  the  "bosses"  for  their  guidance,  and  sweetening  his  discourse 
with  the  customary  promise  of  " forty  acres  and  a  mule"  to  each 
loyal  member  of  the  league  when  final  success  had  been  achieved. 
One  night,  when  these  exercises  had  been  prolonged  to  a  late  hour, 
they  were  suddenly  interrupted  by  a  deep  tone,  "  Hello 
to  the  house,"  coming  from  the  road.  The  startled  inmates 
of  the  cabin  looked  out  and  saw  a  quaint  and  ghostly  sight.  At 
the  stile  block  was  a  horse  and  a  rider,  both  apparently  of  colossal 
size.  The  horse  was  covered  from  head  to  tail  with  a  white 
sheet  which  fell  almost  to  his  hoofs.  The  rider  was  enveloped 
in  what  seemed  a  shroud,  with  a  hood  on  his  head  and  a  large 
cape  falling  over  his  shoulders.  All  this  the  darkies  saw  with 
amazement  and  consternation;  but  what  they  failed  to  detect 
was  a  rubber  tube  fitted  with  a  large  mouthpiece,  which  descended 
underneath  hood  and  shroud  to  the  ground.  The  preacher 
opened  the  door  and  responded  to  the  hail. 

"Bring  a  bucket  of  water  and  a  dipper  out  here,"  commanded 
the  same  appalling  voice.  "I  don't  wish  to  enter  your  cabin 
because  I  might  set  it  on  fire.  Bring  the  water  here  quick." 

The  old  man  procured  the  bucket  and  dipper,  and  with  trem 
bling  limbs  approached  the  stile  and  offered  his  fearful  visitor 
the  water.  The  spectre  seized  the  dipper,  twice  emptied  it, 
then  threw  it  away,  and,  taking  the  bucket,  drained,  or  seemed 
to  drain,  it. 

"Good  Lord,  Boss!"  said  the  horror  stricken  preacher,  "you 
'pears  to  be  dry." 

"Dry!"  echoed  the  thirsty  goblin,  with  a  groan  of  anguish, 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  411 

"If  you  had  been  in  h  — 11  as  I  have  been,  since  the  battle  of 
Murfreesboro,  you'd  be  dry  too." 

With  a  yell  that  rang  to  the  skies,  the  minister  fled  back  to 
his  flock:  but  ere  he  had  turned  in  his  tracks,  an  answering  yell 
from  the  other  darkeys  who  had  seen  and  heard  all  that  had 
happened,  and  a  smashing  of  doors  and  windows  in  the  rear  of 
the  cabin,  gave  evidence  that  he  would  find  the  premises  vacated. 

The  power  of  the  "invisible  empire" — as  it  was  grandilo 
quently  styled  —  was  more  due  to  the  mystery  with  which  it  was 
surrounded  and  the  vague  fear  it  inspired,  than  to  any  strength 
of  numbers  or  coherence  of  organization.  Although  it  was 
extended  into  every  state  which  was  being  subjected  to  the  pro 
cess  of  reconstruction,  comparatively  a  small  proportion  of  the 
population  of  each,  perhaps,  was  enrolled  in  its  ranks  or  took 
active  part  in  its  proceedings.  It  is  to  be  doubted,  also,  whether 
there  was  any  regular  gradation  of  rank  among  its  members, 
or  any  supreme  authority  entitled  to  direct  them  all,  although 
such  was  generally  believed  to  be  the  case.  It  was  so  alert  and 
seemed  so  ubiquitous  that  every  one  thought  it  must  be  numer 
ous,  and  a  common  purpose  induced  the  unity  of  action  usually 
effected  by  a  common  head. 

If  the  organization  of  the  Klan  was  productive  of  harm,  it 
was  so,  I  believe,  solely  in  that  it  may  have  furnished  example 
and  stimulus  for  the  formation  of  other  secret  associations  of 
later  date,which  were  controlled  by  ignobler  motives  and  directed 
to  less  legitimate  ends.  It  certainly  accomplished  a  great  deal 
that  was  of  ultimate  benefit  to  the  Southern  people  in  the  des 
perate  contest  in  which  they  were  then  engaged;  and  accom 
plished  it  by  little,  if  any,  actual  violence.  Its  establishment  in 
Kentucky  was  attempted,  and  had  the  same  conditions  then 
prevailed  in  Kentucky  as  in  the  South  the  attempt  would  have 
been  successful.  But  after  the  conservative  Union  men  and  the 
Southern  sympathizers  had  obtained  control  in  that  state,  any 
thing  of  the  kind  there  would  have  been  not  only  unnecessary, 
but  culpable  and  inconceivably  foolish.  The  Klan  was  dis 
banded,  or,  at  least,  ceased  active  operations,  sometime  in  1869. 

Much  of  the  lawlessness  which  has  prevailed  in  the  South 
has  been  due  to  this  habit  of  meeting  force  and  fraud  by  methods 
as  drastic,  which  the  reconstruction  policies  compelled.  Her 


4i2  REMINISCENCES  OF 

people  claim  —  and,  if  there  be  anything  in  statistical  proof, 
with  good  reason  —  that  violations  of  the  public  peace  and  order 
have  been  quite  as  frequent  and  flagrant  in  other  sections  of  the 
country  and  with  less  excuse. 

The  accusation  of  peculiar  injustice  to  the  negro,  so  often 
brought  against  the  Southern  people,  is  perhaps  the  least  founded 
in  truth  of  all.  Every  instance  which  may  be  cited  as  proof 
of  it,  which  cannot  in  some  measure  be  justified  by  the  provo 
cation,  is,  in  its  last  analysis,  only  a  manifestation  of  that  racial 
antagonism  which  is  as  strong  and  incorrigible  in  the  North  as 
in  the  South  —  which  urges  the  white  race  everywhere  to  assert 
supremacy.  It  has  been  shown,  indeed,  in  more  unreasonable 
and  remorseless  degree  in  Northern  than  in  Southern  communi 
ties.  There  has  been  less  excuse  for  the  race  riots  which  have 
occurred  in  some  of  the  Northern  states  than  for  the  lynching 
—  the  swift,  irregular  punishment  inflicted  in  the  South  upon 
black  men  guilty  of  that  crime  which  arouses  the  most  ungovern 
able  resentment. 

It  is  a  waste  of  time  to  discuss  the  question  of  so-called  race 
prejudice  and  the  sentiment  of  caste.  Whatever  lack  of  equity 
there  may  be  in  this  feeling,  howsoever  erroneous  the  white  man's 
conviction  of  his  natural  superiority  to  the  black  man  may  be, 
it  is  inherent  and  ineradicable,  and  time  and  experience  only 
strengthen  it.  The  writers  who  choose  to  describe  this  feeling 
as  the  "tyranny  of  colour,"  may  be  in  one  sense  right;  but  the 
fact  will  remain  that,  with  every  concession  of  civil  and  political 
equality,  the  black  people  must  occupy  an  inferior  social  plane 
to  the  white. 

All  that  can  be  defined  by  law  and  formulated  in  statutes  for 
the  protection  of  the  negro  may  be  and  should  be  done;  yet 
will  he  remain  the  servant  of  Japhet  so  long  as  he  dwells  in  his 
tents.  No  class  of  white  men  feel  that  more  instinctively  and 
act  on  it  more  rigidly  than  do  those  of  Northern  birth  when 
brought  into  contact  with  negroes.  They  develop  very  often 
a  repugnance  to  all  association  with  the  blacks,  which  the  native 
Southerner  does  not  entertain  and  can  hardly  understand. 

Many  of  the  Northern  people  have  condemned  the  conduct  of 
the  Southern  people  toward  the  black  race,  simply  because  they 
have  not  understood  it.  Ignorant  of  the  negro  character,  they 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  413 

have  received  a  totally  false  idea  of  it;  sometimes  from   sources 
whence  they  had  a  right  to  expect  an  accurate  delineation. 

The  average  Northern  man  and  the  Englishman  believe  that 
the  negro  is  merely  a  white  man  with  a  black  skin.  Placed  in 
similar  positions,  surrounded  by  similar  circumstances,  subject 
to  like  influences,  they  would  expect  him  to  feel  and  act  just  as 
a  white  man  of  about  the  same  degree  of  intelligence  and  infor 
mation  would  feel  and  act. 

Perceiving  in  the  negro  little  intellectual  inferiority  to  the 
white  man  in  those  standards  by  which  intellectual  ability  is 
commonly  measured,  recognizing  in  him  excellent  capacity  for 
much  that  is  supposed  to,  and  doubtless  does,  evince  a  high  order 
of  mentality,  they  cannot  understand  in  what  his  alleged  in 
feriority  consists.  In  imaginative  fervour,  in  those  qualities 
wherein  emotion  and  intellect  are  blended,  he  is  certainly  equal 
to  the  white  man.  It  will  not  surprise  those  who  know  the  negro 
race  best,  if  in  another  generation  it  produces  orators,  poets, 
and  artists  who  shall  rival  their  contemporaries  of  white  blood. 
But  in  the  art  of  government;  in  the  knowledge  of  and  capacity 
for  the  conduct  of  political  and  social  affairs;  in  self-control; 
in  an  acute  perception  of  what  ought  to  be  done  and  what  should 
not  be  attempted;  in  the  organizing  instinct  which  detects  how 
best  to  adapt  the  means  to  an  end,  and  the  ability  to  subordinate 
passion  to  judgment;  in  those  qualities,  in  short,  which  it  has 
been  asserted  make  the  Aryan  race  capable  of  self-government 
and  the  Anglo-Saxon  preeminent  in  that  great  faculty  —  the 
negro  is  vastly  and  unmistakably  beneath  the  level  of  the  white 
man.  His  distinguishing  characteristics  are  a  worship  of  power, 
an  adpration  of  might,  and  a  ductile  susceptibility  to  the  influ 
ence  of  any  one  stronger  than  himself  who  is  immediately  in 
contact  with  him. 

As  a  rule  he  is  good  or  bad,  just  as  he  is  under  good  or  bad 
influences.  He  is  naturally  docile  and  amiable,  but  can  be  in 
cited  to  acts  of  savagery  and  frenzied  folly  which  even  ignorant 
white  men  would  not  commit,  unless  drunken  or  insane.  The 
absolute,  unqualified  veneration  which  the  negro  feels  for  power 
in  its  every  form  and  symbol  —  of  power  as  might,  and  without 
regard  to  the  principle  or  right  —  is  the  strongest  feeling  of  his 
nature  and  the  instinct  by  which  his  conduct  is  chiefly  governed. 


4H  REMINISCENCES  OF 

Nature  formed  him  for  obedience,  and  even  when  he  is  riotous 
and  apparently  insubordinate,  it  is  often  but  his  expression  of 
contempt  for  what  he  deems  weakness,  and  an  indirect  tribute 
to  that  which  he  deems  the  representative  of  superior  and  con 
trolling  force.  The  same  instinct  which  induces  him  to  yield 
to  the  strong  and  serve  without  remonstrance,  is  manifest  upon 
occasion  in  fierce  resentment  of  any  assertion  upon  the  part  of 
the  weak.  During  the  war,  so  long  as  the  invaders  had  not  made 
their  appearance,  the  negroes  on  even  the  most  populous  planta 
tions  were  submissive  and  tractable.  In  communities  whence 
the  greater  number  of  the  white  males  had  departed  for  service 
in  the  army,  on  plantations  where  no  white  persons  remained 
save  women  and  children,  or  sometimes  an  overseer,  the  blacks 
remained  quietly  and  obediently  at  work.  Under  conditions 
which  the  fierce  Anglo-Saxon,  had  he  been  the  slave,  would  have 
instantly  welcomed  as  the  signal  and  utilized  as  the  means  of 
his  deliverance,  the  negro  was  docile  as  in  all  his  former  years 
of  servitude.  He  still  saw  in  the  overseer,  the  white  woman, 
even  the  white  child,  the  type  of  power,  the  representatives 
of  authority.  But  when  the  blue-coated  soldier  came,  he  at  once 
perceived  that  the  terms  were  reversed,  and  in  the  uniform  and 
epaulet,  as  subsequently  in  the  Freedman's  Bureau,  he  recog 
nized  the  dominant  force  in  which  his  soul  delighted,  and  to 
which  he  instinctively  and  completely  acknowledged  allegiance. 
When  the  war  ended  and  the  horrible  era  set  in,  when  the  rule 
of  the  carpet-bagger  and  the  scalawag  was  well-nigh  absolute, 
and  the  Southern  white  who  refused  to  stultify  his  every  convic 
tion,  abjure  all  manly  impulse,  sacrifice  all  self-respect,  was 
threatened  with  lasting  disfranchisement  and  punished  with 
every  insult  and  oppression  possible  to  inflict,  then  it  was  that 
the  real  trouble  with  the  negro  began,  and  it  continued  through 
all  the  years  of  reconstruction. 

The  negro  realized  that  the  old  order  of  things  was  gone, 
that  a  new  regime  was  inaugurated.  He  could  not  understand 
how  any  man  identified  with  the  old  system  and  not  in  accord 
with  the  new  could  have  any  right  of  speech  or  action.  Nor 
did  he  regard  it,  as  an  equally  ignorant  or  very  prejudiced  white 
man  might  have  regarded  it,  as  a  fitting  punishment  of 
rebellion;  he  looked  upon  it  merely  as  the  logical  and  proper 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  415 

consequence  of  the  Southern  white  man's  loss  of  ascendency.  He 
knelt  in  implicit  submission  before  the  representatives  of  Federal 
authority  and  the  agents  of  the  bureau,  followed  with  blind 
fidelity  the  counsels  and  guidance  of  the  white  leaders  of  the 
"league."  But  to  obey  those  in  authority  was  not  enough. 
His  zeal  also  urged  him  to  assail  those  under  the  ban.  His 
loyalty  seemed  to  him  incomplete  without  earnest  and  frequent 
manifestation  of  the  opprobium  which  he  felt  ought  to  be 
visited  on  the  "rebel  trash,"  who  presumed  to  encumber  the 
land  they  could  no  longer  govern.  He  resented  every  attempt 
of  the  Southern  white  population  to  maintain  or  assert  any 
control  over  property,  or  exercise  even  the  most  necessary 
police  regulation;  and  not  so  much  because  he  deemed  it  an  in 
fringement  on  his  own  rights,  as  because  he  honestly  considered 
such  conduct  as  inexcusable  impudence  on  the  part  of  a  deposed 
class,  holding  only  a  shattered  sceptre. 

This  trait  of  the  negro  character,  and  another  almost  as 
marked,  viz.,  his  curious  propensity  to  become  unduly  elated  by 
trivial  circumstances  which  would  not  at  all  have  impressed  a 
white  man  —  an  elation  often  arising  to  presumption  and  arro 
gance  —  have  contributed  quite  as  much  as  any  difference  in 
colour  to  induce  trouble  between  the  two  races. 

The  dissimilarity,  moral  and  intellectual,  between  them, 
due  perhaps  to  heredity,  racial  education  —  the  white  man 
having  three  thousand  years  of  some  sort  of  civilization  in  his 
past,  the  negro  only  seven  or  eight  generations  removed  from  the 
savage  —  has  made  it  impossible  for  them  to  live  together  ami 
cably  unless  the  white  race  rule.  The  question  was  presented 
in  a  shape  that  could  not  be  avoided :  it  was  white  rule  or  black. 
The  Southern  white  resolved  that  the  negro  should  not  rule; 
that  it  should  be  proven  that,  though  beaten  in  war  and  broken 
in  fortune,  he  was  yet  more  than  a  match  for  carpet-baggers  and 
blacks  combined.  The  question  was  settled,  we  have  reason 
to  believe,  finally,  and  there  need  be  little  apprehension  that  the 
friction  and  sometimes  collision,  so  frequent  in  that  period  when 
the  white  man  realized  that  he  must  maintain  his  ascendency 
or  give  up  all  that  made  life  worth  living,  will  ever  recur. 


CHAPTER  XX 

IT  WOULD  unquestionably  be  well  if  religious  feeling 
and  strict  piety  were  always  characteristics  of  the  soldier, 
more  especially  of  soldiers  called  on  to  perform  real 
service.  Men  who  are  required  to  constantly  risk  their  lives 
and  are  frequently  near  to  death  should  be  prepared  to  meet 
it,  and  the  more  conscientious  a  man  is  —  the  stronger  his 
sense  of  obligation  —  the  better  soldier  he  ought  to  be. 

The  "Christian  soldier,"  Gustavus,  Havelock,  or  Stonewall 
Jackson,  always  commands  admiration  in  an  unusual  degree, 
and  it  is  accorded  sometimes  to  fanatics.  We  feel  a  certain 
interest  —  even  because  of  their  fanaticism  —  in  the  grim 
militant  sectarians  of  the  Cromwellian  army  of  1650,  and  their 
prototypes  of  Scotland,  who  strove  for  a  "broken  covenant" 
against  the  tyranny  and  perfidy  of  the  Stuarts. 

But,  unfortunately,  it  is  a  fact  that  the  training  of  the  soldier 
is  not  usually  conducive  to  piety  and  religious  feeling.  The 
monotonous  life  of  the  camp  is  apt  to  breed  a  restless  craving 
for  excitement  and  recreation,  and  a  reckless  disposition  to 
gratify  such  desire  whenever  occasion  is  offered.  I  met  with 
few  examples  of  Christian  resignation  in  my  army  experience, 
although  I  often  found  a  peculiar  crude  philosophy  which  in 
clined  a  man,  while  he  "swore  at"  his  bad  luck,  to  make  the 
most  of  it. 

Nor  was  a  devout  assurance  of  divine  protection  or  provi 
dential  assistance  a  prominent  article  of  the  soldier's  creed.  As 
a  rule,  he  took  that  more  practical,  more  mundane  view  of 
the  matter  which  is  expressed  in  Napoleon's  famous  maxim, 
that  "Providence  is  on  the  side  of  the  heaviest  battalions." 

Even  the  most  orthodox  could  not  altogether  free  themselves 
from  this  habit  of  thought.  It  was  General  Pendleton,  I  be 
lieve,  chief  of  artillery  of  the  Army  of  Northern  Virginia,  who, 
on  some  occasion  after  the  war,  said,  in  fervent  prayer:  "Oh, 

416 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  417 

Lord,  when  in  Thy  divine  wisdom  Thou  had'st  deter 
mined  that  the  Confederacy  should  not  succeed,  before  Thou 
could'st  execute  that  purpose  Thou  wast  obliged  to  remove 
Stonewall  Jackson." 

The  suggestion  that  he  meant  to  say  that  if  Stonewall  Jackson 
had  remained  on  earth  this  particular  purpose  of  Providence 
would  have  been  frustrated,  would  doubtless  have  greatly 
shocked  the  brave,  good,  and  devout  man  who  uttered  these 
words ;  but  they  sound  mightily  that  way. 

The  conviction  that,  in  the  game  of  war,  he  who  "held  the 
best  hand"  would  most  probably  succeed,  was  very  general; 
and  while  the  aid  of  a  power  superior  to  human  intelligence 
and  effort,  was  often  desired  it  was  seldom  invoked  save,  indeed, 
by  those  especially  commissioned  for  such  duty. 

The  lesson  of  ^Esop's  old  fable  of  the  teamster  who  prayed 
Hercules  to  extricate  his  cart  from  the  mire  was  always  in  the 
mind  of  the  veteran;  he  relied  largely  on  his  own  exertions, 
or  if  he  expected  assistance,  it  was  from  some  quarter  whence 
his  experience  taught  him  it  would  probably  come.  It  is  re 
ported  that  in  one  of  the  gnat  battles  fought  in  Virginia,  a 
Federal  chaplain  found  himse'lf  out  on  the  firing  line  at  a  point 
where  a  red-hot  artillery  duel  was  in  progress  between  a  New 
York  battery  and  a  Confederate  battery  of  the  same  number 
of  guns,  both  being  handled  in  excellent  style. 

One  of  the  sergeants  of  the  Federal  battery,  in  the  excitement 
of  the  combat,  had  lost  his  grip  on  simple  and  seemly  English, 
and  was  pouring  out  a  startling  flood  of  profanity. 

"My  friend,"  said  the  chaplain,  "are  you  not  ashamed  — 
indeed,  afraid  —  to  use  such  language  at  such  a  time?  Can 
you  expect  the  support  of  Providence  if  you  utter  such  horrid 
and  blasphemous  language?" 

"We  ain't  calkerlatin'  on  that,  parson,"  responded  the  ser 
geant.  "The  Ninth  Pennsylvania  has  orders  to  support  this 
battery." 

While  the  sergeant  was  altogether  to  blame  in  the  matter 
of  swearing,  I  am  inclined  to  think  he  was  right  in  his  unformu- 
lated  logic.  He  was  merely  disavowing  his  belief  in  a  Special 
Providence  that  would  take  cognizance,  in  a  big  battle,  of  so 
small  a  detail  as  a  battery;  and  he  justly  concluded,  therefore, 


4i8  REMINISCENCES  OF 

that  the  battery  would  have  to  depend  on  more  proximate  and 
visible  means  of  support. 

It  is  scarcely  necessary  to  say  that  men  who  were  thus  skepti 
cal  of  Providential  interference  with  the  battle  field  had  little 
faith  in  its  influence  in  other  matters.  It  was  difficult  to  con 
vince  them  that  it  could  be  evoked  by  solicitation  or  ceremony. 
So,  with  whatever  sincerity  the  good  people  at  home  might 
observe  the  days  on  which  the  respective  governments,  during 
the  Civil  War,  prescribed  religious  services,  either  to  avert  the 
divine  wrath  or  win  the  blessing  of  heaven,  the  soldier  was 
incredulous  on  that  score.  He  gave  no  more  credence  to  the 
supposititious  effect  of  a  day  of  thanksgiving  or  a  day  of 
humiliation,  than  an  austere  Protestant  believes  in  the  efficacy 
of  a  Catholic  holiday. 

I  remember  that  very  nearly  at  the  close  of  the  war,  and 
when  our  rations  were  at  the  lowest  ebb  —  when  the  slightest 
further  reduction  in  that  regard  almost  meant  starvation  — 
Mr.  Davis  issued  one  of  his  many  proclamations  appointing 
a  day  of  fasting  and  prayer.  I  heard  a  number  of  officers  on 
that  occasion  discuss  the  subject  in  all  of  its  aspects.  None 
of  them,  save  one,  hoped  that  divine  help  could  be  thus  obtained, 
but  expressed  the  opinion  that  the  moral  effect  of  such  a  docu 
ment  might  be  good,  as  evincing  a  decent  and  proper  respect 
for  the  sentiment  of  many  excellent  people.  One  gentleman, 
however,  stoutly  maintained  it  was  good  per  se;  that  it  was 
the  way  to  win  the  aid  of  the  Almighty  to  our  cause.  He  finally 
appealed  to  Capt.  Calvin  Morgan,  who  had  up  to  that  time 
been  silent,  to  know  what  he  thought  about  it. 

Captain  Morgan  said  that  he  had  no  doubt,  of  course,  that 
it  was  proper  for  an  individual  to  ask  divine  guidance  and  sup 
port,  and  that  benefit  might  come  of  it;  he  said,  further  that 
what  was  good  for  an  individual  might  also  be  good  for  a  com 
munity.  "But,"  he  went  on  to  say,  "I  think  that,  under  the 
circumstances,  Mr.  Davis  makes  a  mistake  in  relying  on  "fast 
ing  and  prayer,"  and  in  officially  committing  the  Confederacy 
to  such  methods.  The  Yankees  are  stronger  than  we  are  on 
both  those  counts.  We  fast  every  day  as  it  is :  we  are  compelled 
to  do  so  because  we  have  scarcely  anything  to  eat,  and  I  don't 
think  we  will  get  much  credit  above  for  doing  something  we 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  419 

can't  help  doing,  with  or  without  an  executive  order.  As  for 
the  matter  of  prayer,  the  Yankees  can  beat  us  hands  down  on 
that.  They  have  twenty  preachers  to  our  one,  and  outnumber 
us  more  formidably  in  the  pulpit  than  they  do  in  the  field. 
If  Mr.  Davis  risks  the  fate  of  the  Confederacy  on  such  policies 
we  will  be  whipped,  in  my  opinion,  before  another  week." 

But  making  every  proper  concession  to  the  intelligence  that 
willing  to  believe  much,  yet  refuses  to  accept  anything  for  which 
it  cannot  discover  a  reason,  it  must  be  admitted  that  religious 
sentiment  largely  contributes  to  make  good  soldiers  as  well 
as  good  citizens.  History  furnishes  abundantly  such  examples. 
Leaving  out  of  consideration  the  fact  that  among  Christian 
peoples,  the  armies  which  have  been  composed  of  material  in 
great  measure  imbued  with  this  sentiment  have,  all  else  being 
comparatively  equal,  been  generally  successful  in  protracted 
struggles,  the  extent  and  rapidity  of  Mohammedan  conquest 
illustrated  what  it  may  be  made  to  accomplish,  even  when  we 
are  compelled  to  term  it  fanaticism.  The  religious  conviction 
is  deeper  and  more  controlling  than  any  other  known  to  human 
nature,  and  its  usual  concomitant,  a  strong  sense  of  duty,  often 
supplies  the  lack  of  discipline,  and  always  helps  to  establish 
and  strengthen  discipline. 

The  old  saying  of  '76  —  I  forget  which  one  of  the  revolutionary 
heroes  was  its  author  —  "Trust  in  God  and  keep  your  powder 
dry,"  seems  to  be  a  judicious  compromise  between  superstition 
on  the  one  side  and  skepticism  on  the  other. 

That  which  a  learned  judge  has  recently  denominated  "ex 
aggerated  ego"  is  an  infliction  common  to  humanity,  and 
cases  of  it  are  to  be  found  everywhere.  It  does  not,  however, 
manifest  itself  everywhere  in  the  same  form,  and  its  type  seems 
to  be  largely  influenced  by  the  idiosyncrasies  and  racial  tempera 
ment  of  the  people  among  whom  it  prevails.  We  have  examples 
of  its  various  symptoms  afforded  by  the  different  nationalities 
of  which  the  great,  conglomerate  American  population  is  com 
posed.  The  man  who  "takes  himself  too  seriously"  exhibits 
this  overestimate  after  a  different  fashion,  accordingly  as  he 
happens  to  be  native  American,  German,  Irish,  or  Hebrew. 

In  the  majority  of  instances,  of  course,  it  is  a  purely  personal 


420  REMINISCENCES  OF 

trait  —  plain,  unadulterated  self-conceit.  It  may  be  excused 
when  it  is  due  to  inexperience  or  lack  of  the  information,  only 
to  be  acquired  by  association  with  other  men;  in  one  who  has 
led  a  secluded  life,  or  has  been  partially  isolated  from  his  fel 
lows.  But  when  this  self-conceit  remains  or  grows  worse, 
notwithstanding  what  should  be  the  corrective  effect  of  metro 
politan  experience,  the  patient,  if  sane,  should  be  promptly  taken 
out  and  assassinated,  after  the  summary  method  of  the  Mis 
sissippi  sheriff,  "without  bail,  mainprise,  recaption,  or  benefit 
of  clergy." 

But  this  inclination  to  undue  self-estimate  does  not  always 
proceed  from  the  personal  and  complacent  vanity  which  in 
dulges  the  belief  of  individual  superiority.  Very  often  the 
feeling  is  one  of  class  or  association  —  a  certain  esprit  de  corps 
—  rather  than  an  entirely  personal  one.  It  is  frequently  some 
thing  like  the  state  pride  which  induces  every  patriotic  citizen 
to  exalt  his  own  "grand  old  commonwealth"  without  meaning 
to  glorify  himself. 

The  most  impecunious  New  Yorker  can  speak  with  an  air, 
and,  doubtless,  with  a  real  sense  of  self-gratulation,  about  the 
vast  wealth  and  financial  power  of  his  great  city.  A  Bostonian 
who  himself  may  be  barely  over  the  border  of  illiteracy  may 
yet  feel  that  he  reflects  and  modestly  shines  in  the  scholarly 
radiance  of  his  cultured  townsmen.  No  just  man  would 
attribute  personal  vanity  to  the  Virginian  who  boasted  that  he 
was  born  within  two  miles  of  Culpeper  Court  House,  and  could 
have  been  born  at  the  Court  House  had  he  so  chosen;  nor 
would  he  urge  such  charge  against  the  old-time  Tennessee 
orator  because  he  declared  that  "Down  here,  we  folks  —  men 
like  me  and  Gin'ral  Jackson  and  Col.  Davy  Crockett  — 
always  demands  our  rights;  and  if  we  don't  git  'em  somebody 
else  is  mighty  liable  to  git  hell." 

Our  Northern  brethren,  at  the  date  when  they  were  accus 
tomed  to  criticize  the  South,  speak  slightingly  of  "plantation 
manners,"  and  condemn  our  predilection  for  the  duel  and  street 
fight,  did  not  suggest  that  we  were  normally  a  vain  and  conceited 
generation,  but  laid  the  blame  of  the  "exaggerated  ego"  with 
which  they  charged  us  upon  our  civilization  —  on  a  mistaken 
social  education  and  sentiment  which  induced  an  undue  idea 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  421 

of  personal  consequence.  Some  of  them  were  even  so  generous 
as  to  intimate  that  if  we  would  get  rid  of  these  and  all  other 
faults  we  might  become  almost  as  good  as  themselves. 

This  quality  of  exceeding  self-esteem  —  or  over  self  valua 
tion  —  is,  perhaps,  more  common,  at  least  more  widely  diffused, 
in  America  than  in  any  other  country,  and  naturally  so.  Every 
American  has  been  told  from  his  infancy  that  he  is  a  "sover 
eign,"  and  a  good  opinion  of  himself,  therefore,  is  his  birth 
right  and  a  part  of  his  constitutional  inheritance. 

With  men  in  public  station,  more  particularly  if  they  have 
been  especially  the  recipients  of  popular  favour  and  applause, 
the  personal  equation  is  naturally  more  pronounced  and  an 
exalted  self  estimate  more  thoroughly  developed.  This  was 
more  frequently  the  case,  if  tradition  is  to  be  credited,  with 
the  distinguished  men  of  two  or  three  generations  ago  than  of 
this  day.  A  certain  hauteur  and  exaction  seemed  to  be  expected 
then  of  the  great  leaders,  and  was  readily  pardoned.  Few 
critics  blamed  Mr.  Clay's  lordly  and  magnificent  arrogance 
or  General  Jackson's  imperious  dictation,  and  the  masses  seemed 
rather  to  like  and  admire  it. 

A  large  share  of  pride  —  or  of  that  self-confidence  which  is 
akin  to  vanity  —  seems  to  be  always  an  ingredient  in  the  make-up 
of  men  of  this  calibre.  Many  stories  are  yet  told  in  Tennessee 
illustrative  of  this  quality  in  General  Jackson.  One  of  them 
relates  to  his  political  protege,  Mr.  Van  Buren.  General  Jackson 
was  extremely  fond  of  thoroughbred  horses,  and  always  bred 
and  raced  them  until  he  had  reached  a  devout  old  age.  Mr. 
Van  Buren,  when  a  Presidential  candidate,  visited  "Old  Hick 
ory,"  and  the  latter  took  him  out  one  morning  to  witness  the 
exercise  gallops  of  some  fine  youngsters  which  the  old  man  had 
in  training.  Among  them  was  a  three-year-old  stallion  —  the 
pet  and  pride  of  his  master  —  and  which  he  expected  every 
one  else  to  admire  as  much  as  he  did  himself.  He  had  par 
ticularly  impressed  Mr.  Van  Buren  with  an  idea  of  his  excellence. 

The  two  gentlemen  took  position  on  the  side  of  the  "track" 
waiting,  expectantly,  to  see  the  colts  "brush."  "Old  Hickory" 
stood  just  on  the  edge  of  the  course,  perilously  near  to  where 
the  horses  would  pass;  Mr.  Van  Buren  was  cautioned  not 
to  stand  so  close.  In  a  little  while  the  pet  colt  and  a  stable 


422  REMINISCENCES  OF 

companion  almost  as  fleet  as  himself,  came  rushing  like  tornadoes 
down  the  home  stretch  toward  the  post.  In  his  anxiety  to 
see  the  horse  the  general  had  so  highly  vaunted,  Mr.  Van  Buren 
pressed  even  beyond  General  Jackson  and  stepped  out  upon 
the  track.  It  never  occurred,  perhaps,  to  General  Jackson 
in  all  his  life,  that  any  horse  would  attempt  to  run  over  him, 
or  could  do  so  if  he  tried,  but  he  was  concerned  for  his  friend. 
He  seized  the  New  York  statesman  by  the  collar  and  dragged 
him  forcibly  back.  "Get  behind  me,  Mr.  Van  Buren,"  he 
shouted  in  a  tone  that  drowned  the  rattling  thunder  of  the 
rapid  feet.  "Keep  behind  me,  sir!  Then  you  will  always 
be  safe." 

Senator  Benton,  of  Missouri,  who  in  the  beginning  of  his 
public  career  was  a  violent  personal  enemy  of  General  Jackson, 
but  afterward  one  of  his  most  potent  political  supporters, 
evinced  the  same  characteristic  in  even  greater  degree,  but  in 
a  less  pardonable  way,  for  Benton's  self-assertion  always  savoured 
of  insolence.  It  was  said  of  him  that  he  so  resented  opposi 
tion  that  he  could  not  tolerate  the  ordinary  courtesies  of  life 
from  any  one  who  did  not  absolutely  agree  with  him.  On  one 
occasion  a  St.  Louis  editor,  who  had  somewhat  freely  and,  as 
the  old  statesman  thought,  offensively  criticized  his  action  upon 
some  important  measures,  happening  to  meet  him  in  the  state- 
house  at  Jefferson  City,  formally  but  politely  saluted  him. 

"Don't  bow  to  me,"  roared  'Old  Bullion'  ;  "if  you  lift  your 
hat  to  me  again,  I'll  break  your  neck.  I  make  no  objection  to 
your  criticism.  It  simply  shows  that  I'm  right.  I  rather  like 
your  abuse,  but  I'll  be  hanged  if  I  submit  for  one  moment  to 
your  civility." 

It  would  be  difficult  to  imagine  a  more  arrogant  temper  than 
that  which  could  inspire  and  deliver  such  an  utterance. 

After  such  specimens  of  extraordinary,  extravagant  egotism, 
it  is  refreshing  to  recall  the  milder  and  more  amiable  effusions 
of  humbler  men.  We  find  something  like  a  sense  of  consolation 
in  the  lament  of  the  honest  old  Kentuckian,  who,  many  years 
since,  deplored  the  departure  from  this  world  of  so  many  of  his 
eminent  contemporaries.  "Yes,"  he  said  pathetically,  "they 
are  mighty  nigh  all  gone.  I  have  attended  Mr.  Clay's  funeral; 
I  have  seen  the  clods  dropped  on  Crittenden's  grave.  John 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  423 

Morgan  and  Rodger  Hanson  was  killed  endurin'  of  the  war. 
John  Brackenridge  and  Humphrey  Marshall  has  passed  away 
since,  and  John  Carlisle  is  lookin'  mighty  feeble.  And  worst 
of  all,  I  ain't  feelin'  at  all  well  myself." 

It  has  been  a  common  opinion  that  the  Southern  people 
are  rather  too  quick  to  take  offence  and  prone  to  resentment; 
and  we  cannot  successfully  deny  that  such  opinion  is  correct. 
It  may  be  justly  claimed,  however,  that,  as  a  rule,  they  are 
placable  and  willing  to  make  reparation  when  they  have  been 
in  the  wrong.  Indeed,  a  readiness  to  render  proper  apology 
for  either  unwarranted  affront  or  injury  has  always  been  a 
Southern  attribute,  and  in  the  olden  time  the  Southern  gentle 
man  prided  himself  quite  as  much  upon  knowing  how  to  make 
a  graceful  amende  when  in  fault  himself,  as  upon  his  perfect 
acquaintance  with  the  most  efficient  and  speediest  method 
of  obtaining  satisfaction  when  himself  offended.  , 

They  also  entertained  a  chivalrous  feeling  and  sense  of  fair 
play,  which  required  that  the  apology  should  not  be  made 
clandestinely,  but  should  always  be  as  public  as  had  been  the 
offence  for  which  it  was  given.  Much  good,  and  real  refor 
mation  of  much  that  is  censurable,  may  be  expected  from  a 
people  whose  conduct  is  directed  by  such  a  sentiment. 

Innumerable  examples  of  what  has  just  been  said  might  be 
furnished,  but  one  will  suffice  to  demonstrate  its  correctness. 

Many  years  ago  two  well-known  citizens  of  Louisville,  Judge 
Burnett  and  Colonel  Jacobs,  were  visiting  a  neighbouring 
town  while  the  annual  agricultural  fair  was  in  progress.  They 
were  cordially  welcomed,  of  course,  and  treated  with  great 
hospitality;  and  as  a  demonstration  of  the  respect  which  every 
one  desired  to  testify,  were  requested  to  serve  among  the  "judges" 
of  a  number  of  the  important  "horse  rings." 

k  In  one  ring  —  for  the  best  pair  of  light  carriage  horses  —  a 
close  contest  occurred,  which  elicited  much  excitement;  every 
person  on  the  grounds  took  sides,  either  for  a  very  fine  pair 
of  bays,  or  for  an  exceedingly  showy,  high-stepping  pair  of 
browns.  The  judges  themselves  were  long  in  doubt,  but  ulti 
mately  by  a  divided  vote,  three  to  two,  gave  the  premium  to 
the  "browns"  and  the  red  ribbon  to  the  "bays."  Whereupon, 


424  REMINISCENCES  OF 

the  driver  and  owner  of  the  bays  stood  up  in  his  vehicle  and 
solemnly  swore  at  the  judges  as  a  "passell  of  blamed  idiots 
who  didn't  know  the  points  of  a  horse  from  the  bark  on  a  buck 
eye  tree,  and  instead  of  judging  a  horse  ring  ought  to  be  at 
tending  a  normal  school." 

The  profoundest  feeling  was  at  once  aroused.  The  majority 
of  those  present  might  have  been  willing  not  only  to  pardon  but 
to  a  certain  extent  sympathize  with  a  man  who,  really  feeling 
himself  aggrieved,  had  shot  a  man  in  fair  fight,  even  for  mis 
taken  provocation;  but  this  sort  of  thing  was  unprecedented, 
and  not  only  ungentlemanly,  but  a  reflection  on  the  community 
wherein  it  occurred.  The  managers  and  authorities  of  the  fair 
association  and  the  people  generally  —  even  those  who  had 
been  the  strongest  partisans  of  the  "bays"  —  were  scandalized 
and  indignant,  and  there  was  a  general  demand  that  the  offender 
should  be  expelled  from  the  ring  and  the  grounds.  Some  even 
went  so  far  as  to  say  that  his  behaviour  was  so  extremely  dis 
graceful  and  "ridiculous,"  that,  if  a  shot-gun  was  handy,  he  ought 
to  receive  the  benefit  of  it. 

The  managers  held  an  immediate  session,  and  in  a  few  minutes 
adopted  a  resolution,  pronouncing  sentence  on  the  offender, 
condemning  him  to  everlasting  banishment  from  those  premises 
and  all  the  privileges  thereunto  belonging,  never  to  be  permitted 
to  show  another  horse  there,  bay,  brown,  sorrel,  gray,  or  black. 
This  sentence  was  unanimously  approved  by  all  present. 

The  friends  of  the  erring  horseman  took  him  aside  and  strove 
to  impress  upon  him  the  enormity  of  his  action.  They  told 
him  frankly  that  he  had  behaved  badly.  They  laid  proper 
stress  upon  the  sanctity  which  should  always  attach  to  the 
"bench,"  and  pointed  out  that  judicial  decisions  should  be 
treated  with  respect,  even  if  erroneous. 

"How  are  we  going  to  get  along,"  they  urged;  "how  are 
we  to  maintain  our  fair  associations,  so  necessary  to. the  main 
tenance  and  encouragement  of  our  horse-breeding  and  other 
important  interests,  if  every  man  who  fails  to  take  a  blue  ribbon 
denounces  and  insults  the  judges?  It  will  be  impossible," 
they  said,  "to  procure  the  proper  sort  of  men  to  officiate,  to 
accept  those  exalted  positions." 

One  of  the  offender's   most  intimate  friends  declared  with 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.   DUKE  425 

emphasis  that  he  had  "No  self-respect  for  a  d  —  n  fellow  who 
couldn't  lose  a  premium  without  cussin'  like  a  drunken  nigger 
at  a  cornshuckin'." 

It  finally  dawned  upon  the  defendant  that  he  was  really 
greatly  to  blame,  and  had  committed  a  gross  breach  of  etiquette, 
and  under  this  conviction  he  expressed  himself  as  willing  and 
anxious  to  apologize. 

The  Kentuckians,  although  hot-tempered,  are  in  most 
matters  of  a  forgiving  disposition,  and  so,  when  it  was  announced 
that  the  gentleman  sincerely  regretted  his  offence,  it  was  de 
cided  that  he  should  be  permitted  to  acknowledge  and  ask 
pardon  for  the  "mistake"  he  had  committed,  and  should  be 
reinstated.  Judge  Burnett  was  especially  earnest  and  elo 
quent  in  his  plea  for  such  action,  inasmuch  as  he  had  been  strongly 
in  favour  of  awarding  the  blue  ribbon  to  the  "bays." 

When  this  decision  was  reached  it  was  announced  to  the 
crowd,  and  the  same  people  who  had  previously  clamoured 
for  the  culprit's  expulsion,  on  learning  that  he  was  contrite  and 
willing  to  say  as  much,  agreed  that  his  improper  language  ought 
to  be  condoned.  On  that  afternoon,  at  the  hour  when  it  was 
understood  that  the  apology  was  to  be  offered,  a  much  larger 
crowd  was  assembled  than  had  been  on  the  grounds  in  the 
morning,  for  many  who  had  learned  what  had  happened  came 
to  hear  the  apology. 

When  the  hour  arrived  the  judges  assembled  and  stood  with 
official  dignity  in  the  centre  of  the  ring,  and  the  penitent,  es 
corted  by  the  gentleman  who  acted  as  ring  master  and  grand 
marshal  of  the  ceremonies,  entered  the  arena.  Amid  pro 
found  silence,  and  unfaltering,  notwithstanding  the  somewhat 
unfriendly  gaze  of  the  multitude,  he  walked  forward  with  a 
firm  step  and  composed  demeanour  to  within  a  few  paces  of 
the  spot  where  the  judges  were  awaiting  him,  and,  lifting  his 
hat,  said  in  a  clear  voice  heard  by  every  one  in  the  listening  and 
deeply  interested  audience:  "Gentlemen,  I  am  greatly  morti 
fied  by  what  has  occurred,  and  I  cannot  adequately  express 
my  regret  that  your  conduct  was  such  as  to  compel  me  to  em 
ploy  the  strong  language  which  I  uttered." 

The  silence  of  the  multitude  remained  unbroken  and  intense, 
but  there  came  a  look  resembling  astonishment  and  incredulity 


426  REMINISCENCES  OF 

on  every  face.  Then  Judge  Burnett  stepped  forward,  grasped  the 
hand  of  that  contrite  and  candid  man,  and  said:  "My  dear  sir, 
in  behalf  of  myself  and  colleagues,  I  accept  the  handsome  ac 
knowledgment  you  have  just  made,  in  the  same  spirit  in  which 
it  is  offered,  and  trust  that  it  will  never  have  to  be  repeated." 

For  some  reason,  the  audience  thought  both  speeches  a  trifle 
ambiguous.  A  few  hours  later  the  reinstated  horseman  reap 
peared  in  the  ring  and  drove  a  spanking  pair  of  chestnuts 
to  victory.  When  returning  thanks  for  the  blue  ribbon,  no 
man's  speech  or  manner  could  have  been  more  refined  or  appro 
priate,  and  everybody  said  that  he  had  received  a  lesson  which 
had  been  of  great  service. 

Kentucky  has  always  been  more  or  less  renowned  as  the 
home  of  men  of  large  stature.  There  was  better  reason  for 
it,  perhaps,  in  the  earlier  days  of  the  commonwealth  than  now, 
because  of  the  hardier  and  doubtless  healthier  life  of  the 
pioneers.  Byron,  writing  of  "Colonel  Boone,  Backwoodsman, 
of  Kentucky,"  seems  to  be  of  this  opinion,  for  when  he  describes 
the  Kentucky  hunters  and  their  children,  declaring  that 

"Tall  and  strong  and  swift  of  foot  were  they, 
Beyond  the  dwarfing  city's  pale  abortions," 

he  evidently  believed  that  the  air  of  the  woods  is  better  adapted 
to  the  rearing  of  a  stalwart  progeny  than  that  of  the  streets. 

Nevertheless,  the  Bluegrass  State  has  produced  some  rather 
striking  specimens  of  ample  physical  development  even  since 
the  period  when  the  "bar,  the  buffler,  and  the  Injun"  were 
to  be  found  within  her  borders,  and  when  it  was  consequently 
necessary  that  human  beings  should  be  built  upon  a  correspond 
ing  scale  in  order  to  successfully  compete  with  them.  Whether 
the  average  Kentuckian  has  been  compelled  to  earn  his  liveli 
hood  by  his  rifle  or  more  modern  implements  of  industry  — 
whether  he  has  fed  on  venison  or  "hog  and  hominy"  he 
has  attained  rather  unusual  proportions  of  height  and  girth, 
and  every  generation  has  exhibited  an  abundance  of  robust 
physical  manhood. 

The  fame  of  some  of  the  tallest  of  these  Kentuckians  sur 
vives  in  legends,  which,  if  not  authentic  are  yet  impressive. 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  427 

Tradition  fails  to  preserve  the  name  but  relates  the  exploits 
of  a  certain  native  of  Nelson  county,  in  the  days  before  Nelson 
county  was  subdivided  into  many  others.  This  veritable  son 
of  Anak,  it  is  said,  preferred  to  pluck  fruit  from  the  very  top 
of  an  apple  tree,  while  himself  standing  at  its  foot,  and  could 
easily  nail  shingles  on  the  roof  of  an  ordinary  log  cabin  without 
having  to  mount  either  stump  or  ladder.  No  one  now  living, 
however,  has  ever  talked  with  any  one  who  had  seen  him  per 
form  either  of  these  feats.  Wonderful  stories  have  been  told 
about  Jim  Porter,  the  hack  driver,  the  "Portland  giant,"  as 
he  was  called  by  residents  of  Louisville,  and  the  "Kentucky 
giant"  by  those  who  lived  elsewhere.  His  length  of  arm  and 
reach  was  so  great  that  his  admirers  claimed  he  could  not  only 
open  the  door  of  his  hack  without  descending  from  his  seat, 
but  that  he  could,  with  one  hand,  yank  off  any  fellow  who 
might  try  to  steal  a  ride  behind,  while  still  managing  his  reins 
and  team  with  the  other.  Dickens  thought  Porter  worthy 
of  mention  as  one  of  the  curiosities  he  saw  during  his  stay 
in  America. 

The  ranks  of  the  professional  "giants,"  who  travel  with  the 
great  shows  and  delight  and  amaze  the  eyes  of  sight-seers, 
have  been  recruited  from  this  peculiar  growth  of  Kentucky's 
prolific  soil.  The  best  known  of  these  were  "Captain,"  or, 
as  he  was  sometimes  —  with  a  fine  humour  —  termed  "Baby" 
Bates,  and  Smith  Cook,  his  scarcely  less  famous  and  colossal 
compatriot.  Bates  was  said  to  be  more  than  eight  feet  in 
height.  I  have  often  seen  him,  and  had  I  been  asked  to  hazard 
a  guess  at  his  vertical  dimensions,  I  should  have  said  he  was 
fully  nine.  Nor  was  he  of  a  lank  and  meager  frame,  by  any 
means.  He  weighed  nearly  four  hundred  pounds,  was  well 
made  and  powerful,  and  quite  a  "well-favoured"  man.  He 
served,  when  a  very  young  man,  in  one  of  the  Kentucky  cavalry 
regiments,  and  his  comrades  used  to  say  that  when  the  road 
was  very  bad  he  would  sometimes  dismount  and  carry  his  horse 
over  the  worst  places.  I  do  not  vouch  for  this  story,  because 
soldiers,  in  their  moments  of  leisure,  will  occasionally  lie,  and 
it  is  well  to  receive  much  that  they  say  with  caution.  Bates 
had  none  of  that  heavy  stupidity  and  dullness  of  intellect  which 
history  and  fiction  seem  agreed  in  ascribing  to  those  who  have 


428  REMINISCENCES  OF 

exceeded  the  usual  stature  of  humanity.  He  was  a  man  of 
good  and  alert  intelligence,  relishing  a  joke  exceedingly  and 
always  willing  to  take  part  in  any  pleasantry.  Once  on  a  steam 
boat  trip  down  the  Ohio  with  Col.  Dick  Wintersmith  he  aided 
that  merry  gentleman  in  mystifying  an  acquaintance  of  the 
latter  in  a  way  that  highly  delighted  both  himself  and  the 
colonel.  As  the  boat  rounded  in  at  Owensboro,  Colonel  Winter- 
smith  recognized  a  man  standing  "upon  the  wharf  and  evidently 
about  to  come  on  board,  as  an  old  and  very  intimate  friend 
of  his  own  and  a  relative  of  his  wife,  but  whom  he  had  not  seen 
for  years.  Wintersmith  at  once  turned  to  Bates,  pointed  out 
his  friend  and  said:  "When  that  man  comes  aboard  I'm  going 
to  introduce  you  to  him  as  my  son.  Do  you  catch  on?"  "I 
do,"  said  the  giant,  and  the  plot  between  them  was  perfectly 
understood.  The  meeting  between  the  colonel  and  his  friend , 
was  very  cordial,  and  after  a  number  of  mutual  inquiries  usual 
on  such  occasions,  the  latter  asked  where  the  colonel  was  going 
and  upon  what  business.  "Ah,"  sighed  Dick,  in  melancholy 
cadence,  "I  have  an  unpleasant  matter  in  hand.  My  eldest 
boy,  who  has  been  at  school  in  Memphis,  ran  away  the  other 
day.  I  caught  him  in  Louisville  and  am  taking  him  back. 
But,"  he  added,  with  apparently  sudden  indignation,  "I'll 
make  him  sorry  for  what  he  has  done.  I'll  thrash  him  within 
an  inch  of  his  life." 

"Now,  Dick,"  said  the  friend,  with  the  consideration  we 
invariably  entertain  in  such  cases  for  other  people's  children, 
"don't  be  too  hard  on  him.  Boys  will  be  boys."  "It's  well 
to  say  that,"  replied  Dick,  "but  you  never  saw  such  a  boy  as 
this  fellow  is.  But  I'll  show  him  to  you.  Come  here, 
Jimmy." 

Bates,  who  had  remained  out  of  sight  but  within  hearing, 
immediately  responded  to  the  call.  "This  is  my  boy  Jimmy," 
said  Colonel  Wintersmith.  "Shake  hands  with  Mr.  Brown, 
Jimmy." 

Mr.  Brown  fell  back  into  a  chair  and  almost  fainted.  "Dick 
Wintersmith,"  he  exclaimed  in  a  sepulchral  voice,  "you  say 
that's  your  son?" 

"Oh,  yes,"  said  Dick,  "but  he's  a  very  bad  boy.  What 
made  you  run  away  from  school,  you  little  rascal?" 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  429 

"Well,  pa,"  said  the  giant,  grinning  sheepishly,  "they  treated 
me  so  bad  I  couldn't  stay." 

"My  God,  Dick!"  said  Mr.  Brown,  oblivious  to  the  ordinary 
courtesies  incumbent  upon  an  introduction,  "you  don't  mean 
to  tell  me  that's  Lizzie's  child!" 

"Of  course  I  do.     What's  the  matter  with  you?" 

Mr.  Brown  was  still  paralyzed  with  amazement.  The  smooth, 
beardless,  rosy,  boyish  face  of  "Baby"  Bates,  in  contrast  with 
his  enormous  frame,  bewildered  him.  Then,  in  well-enacted 
confusion,  Bates  simpered  and  with  an  easy  gesture  took  down 
his  pipe  from  where  he  had  previously  deposited  it  on  the  hur 
ricane  deck  ten  feet  above  where  they  stood.  It  was  a  huge 
meerschaum,  as  big  for  a  pipe  as  Bates  was  for  a  man.  He 
loaded  it  with  a  full  handful  of  tobacco  and  began  to  smoke. 

"For  the  love  of  heaven!"  ejaculated  Mr.  Brown.  "Do 
you  permit  that  boy  to  use  tobacco?" 

"I  can't  prevent  him,"  said  Dick.  "He  both  smokes  and 
chews.  I'm  afraid  it's  going  to  injure  his  growth.  But  he  don't 
take  a  bit  after  his  mother.  He  has  all  my  vices.  You  would 
hardly  believe  it,  but  he  drinks  and  swears." 

"Well,"  said  Mr.  Brown,  apparently  at  last  resigned  to  the 
situation,  "if  the  habits  of  drinking  and  smoking  become  con 
firmed,  in  two  years  from  this  date  there  won't  be  a  barrel  of 
whiskey  or  a  hogshead  of  tobacco  left  in  Kentucky." 

Smith  Cook  was  neither  so  tall  nor  so  bulky  as  Bates.  His 
height,  I  think,  was  seven  feet  and  eight  inches,  and  his  weight 
about  two  hundred  and  seventy-five  pounds.  He  had  a  good, 
although  rather  excessive  figure,  and  a  handsome  countenance 
with  a  somewhat  sad  expression;  the  expression  of  one,  who, 
from  a  superior  eminence,  looks  down  upon  the  follies  of  mankind. 
He  exhibited  a  good  deal  of  the  intellectual  slowness  and  sim 
plicity  which,  from  time  immemorial^  have  been  imputed  to 
the  giant.  But  he  was  gentle  and  amiable,  and  while  always 
ready  and  consistent  in  his  defence  of  the  showmen  and  circus 
people  with  whom  he  has  long  been  associated,  was  austere  and 
uncompromising  in  condemnation  of  the  numerous  "fakirs" 
who  follow  a  big  show,  and  of  whose  malpractices  he  ever  spoke 
with  abhorrence. 

When  Cook  finally  quitted  the  show  business  and  the  road, 


430  REMINISCENCES  OF 

he  became  smitten  with  that  passion  which  has  fascinated  and 
impaired  the  usefulness  of  so  many  Kentuckians  who  would 
otherwise  have  been  valuable  citizens.  His  soul  was  fired 
with  the  desire  for  political  distinction  and  a  longing  for  office 
and  public  preferment.  He  was  doing  quite  well  on  his  little 
farm  in  his  native  county  of  Henry.  He  was,  in  some  respects, 
peculiarly  fitted  for  the  successful  prosecution  of  agricultural 
pursuits.  His  length  of  arm  was  so  great  that  when  he  swung 
a  scythe  or  wielded  a  cradle,  no  mowing  or  harvesting  machine 
ever  invented  could  accomplish  more,  in  a  given  length  of  time, 
than  could  his  unaided  strength;  and  no  scarecrow  was  more 
effective  to  frighten  away  marauding  birds  from  the  corn  field. 
His  tall  form  stalking  once  a  day  in  the  vicinity  would  cause 
the  boldest  crow  to  keep  aloof  for  a  week. 

But  in  an  evil  hour,  he  allowed  himself  to  be  elected  door 
keeper  of  the  lower  house  of  the  legislature.  Like  Cincinnatus 
he  was  persuaded  to  abandon  the  plow,  although  I  believe 
that  he  required  rather  less  persuasion  than  was  exerted  in  the 
case  of  Cincinnatus.  He  performed  the  onerous  and  responsible 
duties  of  this  position  with  ability  and  fidelity,  until  he  struck 
the  rock  on  which  so  many  promising  statesmen  have  been 
wrecked.  He  permitted  his  private  feelings  to  unduly  influence 
his  official  duty.  The  personal  equation  asserted  itself  so 
strongly,  that  not  only  did  he  fail  on  one  important  occasion 
to  observe  the  impersonal  conduct  which  is  justly  expected  of 
every  public  servant,  but  he  violated  that  salutary  rule  which 
inhibits  interference  by  one  coordinate  branch  of  government 
with  another,  and  permitted  himself,  although  merely  a  door 
keeper,  to  offer  advice  to  legislators. 

It  must  be  admitted,  however,  that  the  temptation  was 
unusually  strong,  and  it  can  also  be  said  in  his  excuse  that 
he  acted  not  so  much  for  his  own  interest  as  in  behalf  of  his 
friends  and  former  associates. 

At  that  date,  the  idea  of  regulation  by  legislative  enactment 
was  taking  strong  hold  of  the  popular  mind  and 'inflaming  the 
imaginations  of  aspiring  politicians.  A  certain  member  of 
the  Kentucky  senate  was  exceedingly  anxious  to  do  something 
in  that  line;  but,  having  been  dilatory,  ascertained,  when  he 
finally  determined  to  introduce  some  such  measure  that  the 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  431 

field  of  corporate  regulation  was  already  fully  occupied.  Thor 
ough  attention  had  been  paid  to  railroads,  banks,  and  insurance 
companies,  and  he  could  discover  nothing  of  that  nature  at 
which  he  could  shoot  an  enactment.  After  much  thought, 
however,  a  bright  idea  occurred  to  him.  He  reflected  how 
basely  a  long-suffering  people  had  been  —  and  were  being  — - 
deceived  and  disappointed  by  those  whose  business  it  was  to 
furnish  them  amusement.  So  he  carefully  prepared  and  in 
troduced  a  bill  requiring  all  shows,  circuses,  and  theatrical 
companies  of  every  kind,  to  conform  in  all  respects  to  their 
advertisements,  and  have  their  performances  come  thoroughly 
up  to  the  expectations  excited  by  their  bill  posters. 

Cook  had  quitted  the  show  business  many  years  previously, 
and  had  no  intention  of  reentering  it,  but  his  blood  boiled  at 
what  he  deemed  a  rank  injustice,  and  he  felt  keenly  for  his 
old  friends,  threatened  with  such  oppression.  He  forgot  his 
customary  caution  and  reticence,  and  utilized  every  occa 
sion  to  denounce  a  measure  so  iniquitous. 

When  the  wags  of  both  houses  —  and  a  majority  of  the  names 
on  each  roll-call  might  have  been  included  in  such  category  — 
learned  how  profoundly  he  was  interested,  they  determined 
to  make  the  best  possible  use  of  such  opportunity  for  amuse 
ment.  Some  came  to  notify  him,  kindly  but  firmly,  that  they 
felt  compelled  to  vote  for  the  bill,  as  one  sorely  needed  for  the 
protection  of  a  fraud-ridden  community.  Others  pledged  him 
unreservedly  that  they  would  vote  against  it,  believing  it  to 
be  the  extremest  expression  of  legislative  imbecility.  This 
declaration  gave  him  much  comfort.  But  the  greater  number 
claimed  to  be  undecided.  They  said  that  they  wished  to  avail 
themselves  of  his  superior  practical  knowledge  of  the  subject; 
that  if  he  could  state  substantial  reasons  why  it  should  be  de 
feated  they  would  vote  accordingly;  but  that,  with  their  then 
understanding  of  the  matter,  they  didn't  see  how  they  would 
be  able  to  satisfy  their  excited  constituencies  unless  they  helped 
to  pass  the  bill. 

Cook  had  never,  perhaps,  in  all  of  his  life  attempted  to  give  a 
reason  for  anything;  but  in  this  grave  emergency  he  made  the  best 
effort  he  could,  and  even  essayed  an  argument  before  the  commit 
tee.  The  committee  listened  to  him  with  profound  respect  and 


432  REMINISCENCES  OF 

attention,  but  seemed  hopelessly  divided.  Then  he  resorted  to 
more  practical  methods.  He  wrote  to  all  of  the  big  shows 
which  habitually  traversed  Kentucky,  and  received  assurances 
from  their  proprietors  that  to  every  legislator,  who  voted  or 
in  good  faith  worked  against  the  bill,  a  ticket  of  admission  should 
be  issued  to  be  good  if  the  show  visited  Frankfort  during  the 
continuance  of  the  session,  or  if  presented  at  any  time  during 
the  year  at  any  other  point.  He  did  not  feel  entirely  easy, 
however,  until,  after  many  long  and  earnest  conferences  with 
Judge  Mulligan,  of  Lexington,  who  was  then  a  member  of  the 
senate,  he  had  secured  that  gentleman's  apparently  reluctant 
consent  to  oppose  the  bill  upon  the  floor.  Yet  somehow  or 
another,  Judge  Mulligan,  usually  quicker  of  apprehension  than 
any  one,  seemed  strangely  unable  to  understand  Cook's  presen 
tation  of  the  case;  and  more  than  once,  after  he  had  appeared 
to  be  entirely  satisfied,  came  back  with  startling  objections 
which  cost  Cook  many  wakeful  nocturnal  hours  to  successfully 
combat.  At  length,  however,  he  announced  that  he  was 
convinced. 

When  the  day  arrived  upon  which  the  bill  was  to  be  con 
sidered,  Cook  was  white  and  tremulous  with  suppressed  emotion. 
At  first  its  advocates  had  decidedly  the  advantage  of  the  dis 
cussion,  and  its  opponents  seemed  to  be  half-hearted  and  afraid 
to  extend  themselves.  But  Cook  said  to  the  friends  who  were 
commiserating: 

"You  jest  wait  —  wait  till  Mulligan  gits  up.  He  won't 
leave  enough  of  them  fellers  to  feed  a  snipe  —  he'll  make  'em 
look  like  thirty  cents.  You  jest  wait!" 

Finally  Mulligan  got  up.  He  said  that,  at  first,  he  had  been 
greatly  impressed  with  this  bill.  To  him  it  had  seemed  to  have 
merit,  and  to  be  intended  to  correct  an  unmistakable  evil. 

"I,  myself,"  he  said,  with  that  candour  which  adds  so  much 
to  the  effect  of  oratory,  "  have  more  than  once  suffered  the  pang 
of  disappointment  which  assails  the  man  who  carefully  studies 
the  bill  and  afterward  sees  the  circus.  When  I  was  a  boy  I 
read  glowing  accounts  of  the  equatorial  African  hen,  to  which 
crushed  ice  had  to  be  given  three  times  a  day  to  prevent  her 
from  laying  boiled  eggs,  and  in  whose  cage  no  straw  could  be 
placed  because  her  fiery  breath  would  ignite  it.  In  the  simple, 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  433 

pathetic  confidence  of  youth,  I  hastened  to  see  this  highly  at 
tractive  bird;  and  what  did  I  witness?  Only,  so  far  as  I  could 
discover,  a  plain,  motherly  yellow  hen.  Afterwards  I  saw  a  pic 
ture  of  the  hippopotamus  hunted  in  his  native  river  by  the 
black  savages  who  lived  upon  its  banks.  The  infuriated  animal 
had  rushed,  with  a  mouth  stretched  wider  than  a  railroad  tunnel, 
upon  his  foes,  had  crushed  the  boat  with  his  mighty  teeth, 
had  swallowed  one  of  the  Africans,  blood  raw,  and  had  tossed 
the  others  fifty  feet  into  the  air.  I  went  to  the  circus.  Con 
sumed  with  anxiety  and  curiosity,  I  rushed  to  the  tank  where 
the  hippopotamus  had  his  habitat,  and  I  saw,  what?  Merely 
the  nose  of  the  creature  an  inch  or  two  above  the  water,  and 
there  wasn't  a  canoe  or  a  nigger  anywhere  around. 

"On  one  occasion,  when  I  was  visiting  New  York,  I  was  taken 
by  a  friend  over  to  Jersey  City  to  visit  an  extensive  menagerie 
which  was  wintering  there.  When  we  were  in*  the  very  acme 
of  enjoyment  —  admiring  the  many  interesting  animals  we 
saw  —  the  black  rhinoceros  was  suddenly  smitten  with  one  of 
those  unaccountable  fits  of  rage  which  sometimes  drives  that 
beast  to  distraction,  and  makes  him  so  disagreeable  to  both 
man  and  beast.  Suddenly  and  without  any  ascertainable 
provocation,  he  began  to  attack  every  thing  in  sight.  He  spread 
destruction  and  terror  all  about  him.  He  slew  the  musk-ox 
and  crippled  the  giraffe.  The  camels  humped  themselves 
for  flight,  and  the  elephants  packed  their  trunks  to  leave.  In 
tl^  wild  disorder  everybody  and  every  animal  was  seeking 
refuge  as  best  he  might.  Five  or  six  of  the  employes  climbed 
the  centre  pole  of  the  tent,  hoping  to  find  safety  at  its  top; 
but  one  of  the  elephants,  now  insane  himself  with  rage  and  fear, 
wrapped  his  trunk  around  the  pole  and  shook  it  as  a  boy  shakes 
a  fruit  tree.  All  of  these  unfortunate  men  were  shaken  down 
and  tramped  to  death  by  the  monster  —  all  save  one;  he  was 
highest  on  the  pole,  and  he  succeeded  in  gnawing  his  way  through 
the  canvas,  and  escaped  by  sliding  down  on  the  outside  like  a 
man  going  down  a  fire-escape. 

"I  was  so  paralyzed  with  fear,  that  I  stood  still  —  thinking 
that  I  was  lost.  But  fortunately,  the  attention  of  the  rhinoceros 
was  attracted  to  the  gorilla.  That  formidable  and  ferocious 
ape,  excited  by  the  tumult,  was  conducting  himself  as  he  is 


434  REMINISCENCES  OF 

said  to  do  in  his  native  forest  when  something  occurs  to  arouse 
his  fury.  He  had  erected  his  horrent  crest,  was  beating  his 
hairy  chest  with  his  huge  hands,  and  was  emitting  those  blood 
curdling,  thunderous  growls  which  shake  and  appal  the  jungles 
of  the  Gaboon.  The  rhinoceros  made  a  dash  straight  for  the 
den  of  the  gorilla.  He  struck  it  quartering  and  ripped  out 
the  bars  as  easily  as  a  monkey  would  tear  away  the  wires  of 
a  canary  bird's  cage;  and  then  the  gorilla  dropped  upon  his 
knees,  and  wailed  out,  "Oh,  Holy  Moses!  oh!  all  yez  blessed 
saints  in  heaven!  help  me  out  of  this  scrape;  and  if  iver  I  thravel 
as  a  gorilla  agin,  I'll  go  to  hell  by  consint." 

"Just  think  of  that!  Here  was  a  poor  exile  from  Erin,  caught 
on  the  beach  —  picked  up  as  soon  as  he  landed  on  these  shores, 
and  induced  to  travel  as  a  gorilla  —  think  of  this  outrage  in 
flicted  on  him,  and  of  the  imposition  upon  the  public. 

"I  mention  these  things  senators,  to  show  you  that  I  have 
experienced,  more  than  any  of  you,  perhaps,  that  deception 
which  so  arouses  your  indignation.  But  let  us  try  to  be  just. 
Upon  reflection,  I  am  satisfied  that  something  —  perhaps 
much  —  may  be  said  in  palliation,  if  not  in  excuse,  of  this  practice 
we  are  seeking  to  correct.  We  must  remember  that  every 
man,  woman,  and  child  cannot  go  to  the  circus.  Thousands 
are  prevented  by  poverty,  and  yet  their  eyes  are  delighted  by 
these  beautiful  show  bills  which  have  elicited  so  much  criticism. 
We  had  best  pause,  lest  we  be  suspected  of  legislating  in  the 
interests  of  the  wealthy  —  the  bloated  bond  holder  who  can 
pay  to  enter  the  tent  —  while  we  deprive  the  common  people, 
the  children  of  the  poor,  of  the  only  part  of  the  entertainment 
which  is  furnished  without  cost. 

"I  say  nothing  of  other  criticism  to  which  we  might  subject 
ourselves,  if  we  pass  this  bill  —  that  it  might  be  claimed  that 
we  have  interfered  with  the  free  control  of  private  property, 
and  have  discouraged  the  development  of  art.  But  these  are 
trivial  objections.  The  reflection,  which  to  my  mind  is  most 
seriously  disquieting,  is  that  such  legislation  will  deprive  the 
poor  of  the  only  solace  which,  for  them,  is  associated  with  a 
circus.  It  will,  take  from  their  eyes  those  radiant  pictures 
which  are  things  of  beauty,  and  —  until  patent  advertisements 
are  pasted  over  them  —  joys  forever. 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  435 

"I  therefore,  move  you,  Mr.  Speaker,  that  this  bill  be  recom 
mitted  to  the  Committee  on  General  Statutes,  with  instructions 
that  that  committee  shall  consult  with  the  Committee  on 
Claims  and  Grievances,  and  that  no  further  report  shall  be 
made  until  both  committees  shall  unanimously  agree." 

In  vain  the  author  of  the  bill  strongly  protested  against 
this  action,  which  he  justly  declared  would  stifle  his  measure, 
and  which  he  also  alleged  to  be  unprecedented.  Every  senator 
said  that  he  had  always  entertained  exactly  the  same  opinion 
expressed  by  Mulligan;  only  he  hadn't  known  just  how  to 
formulate  it.  So  the  motion  was  carried  by  acclamation. 

But  then  Cook's  real  trouble  began.  Every  senator  claimed 
the  reward  he  had  offered  those  who  should  vote  against  the  bill. 

"You  didn't  vote  against  it,"  he  said,  "it  wasn't  put  upon  its 
passage." 

"That's  a  vile  subterfuge,"  they  asserted.  "We  voted  for 
a  motion  which  was  equivalent  to  an  indefinite  postponement, 
and  that  amounted  to  voting  against  it." 

Next  came  eighty  or  ninety  members  of  the  house  demanding, 
in  return  for  what  they  had  done,  certificates  which  would  obtain 
them  free  admission  to  all  the  shows. 

"But,"  said  Cook,  "you  fellers  didn't  vote  at  all.  The  bill 
didn't  reach  the  house." 

"That  wasn't  our  fault.  We  were  ready  to  vote  against  it; 
and  we  gave  you  our  moral  support,  we  used  our  influence 
with  senators  and  we  want  the  recognition  that  is  our  due." 

Cook  never  was  able  to  settle.  The  claims  and  the  claimants 
multiplied,  and  the  show  people  ungratefully  went  back  on  him. 
His  political  career  was  ruined.  His  life  was  blighted.  He 
became  so  bent  and  stooped  with  care  as  to  lose  twelve  inches 
of  his  height  and  he  fell  off  nearly  one  hundred  and  twenty 
pounds  in  flesh;  so  that  the  couldn't  have  gone  back  to  the  show 
business  had  he  wished.  He  died  a  lofty  .but  melancholy 
example  of  misdirected  zeal. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

GEN.  JOHN  C.  BRECKINRIDGE  used  to  tell  a  story 
of  ante-bellum  politics,  which  he  enjoyed  none  the 
less  because  the  joke  was  on  himself.  On  one  occasion, 
during  his  second  canvass  for  congress,  he  was  advertised  to 
speak  in  a  certain  county  where  political  sentiment  was  pretty 
equally  divided,  and  the  partisan  prejudice  against  him  about 
offset  the  strong  personal  devotion  he  generally  inspired.  He 
therefore  felt  unusual  interest  in  the  result  of  this  meeting, 
and  determined  to  exert  to  the  utmost  his  powers  of  eloquence 
and  persuasion.  He  was  staying  on  the  night  preceding  at  the 
house  of  Mr.  Cohen,  a  warm  personal  friend  and  the  most  influ 
ential  Democrat  of  the  county. 

They  were  engaged  in  consultation  for  many  hours,  discussing 
momentous  strategical  questions  connected  with  the  canvass 
and  the  attitude  of  numerous  precinct  leaders  not  yet  positively 
committed.  Soon  after  breakfast,  "Major"  Breckinridge,  as 
he  was  then  styled,  and  Mr.  Cohen  got  into  the  latter's  buggy 
and  drove  to  the  place  of  the  meeting.  It  was  known  that  the 
crowd  would  assemble  at  an  early  hour,  and  deemed  important 
that  the  major  should  employ  two  or  three  hours  in  "mixing." 

When  they  reached  the  ground,  Major  Breckinridge  did  "mix," 
and  to  good  effect,  if  the  earnest  approbation  accorded  his  re 
marks  about  the  crops  and  the  live  stock  and  the  open-mouthed 
laughter  with  which  his  jests  and  anecdotes  were  received  was 
evidence  thereof.  His  friend  was,  in  the  meantime,  doubtless 
also  well  employed,  but  the  major  lost  sight  of  him  until  the  hour 
for  speaking  was  announced  and  he  mounted  the  stand  together 
with  the  other  prominent  citizens. 

It  is  scarcely  necessary  to  say  that  at  that  time  John  C.  Breck 
inridge  had  no  peer  as  a  stump  speaker  in  Kentucky  —  it  is  a 
matter  of  history.  But  those  who  never  saw  or  heard  him  can 
form  no  conception  of  his  wonderful  magnetism.  It  resided 

436 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  437 

as  much  in  his  look  and  gesture  as  in  his  voice.  Often  a  mere 
glance  over  the  crowd,  while  he  remained  seated  and  silent, 
would  elicit  wild  cheers  and  a  tumult  that  could  with  difficulty 
be  stilled.  On  this  occasion  he  surpassed  himself  and  seemed 
resolved  to  capture  every  auditor  and  conquer  all  prejudice. 

The  crowd  soon  yielded  to  the  spell  of  his  eloquence  with  one 
exception.  A  tall,  burly,  hard-featured,  sarcastic-looking  "  cuss  " 
had  posted  himself  in  the  front  rank  of  the  closely  packed  au 
dience,  and  it  became  immediately  apparent  that  he  was  not  a 
"Brackenridge  man,"  but  on  the  contrary,  very  hostile  to  the 
Democratic  champion.  Indeed,  before  the  speaker  had  well 
opened  his  argument,  this  individual  had  interrupted  him  half 
a  dozen  times  in  an  exceedingly  offensive  manner. 

The  crowd  became  indignant  and  Mr.  Cohen  arose,  and,  in  a 
voice  almost  inarticulate  with  wrath,  threatened  the  noisy  ruffian 
with  expulsion  and  punishment  if  he  did  not  desist. 

"You  shet  your  damn  head,  Jim  Cohen,"  responded  the  offen 
der.  "I  reckon  this  air  a  free  country  and  I've  got  a  right  to 
talk." 

Then  a  universal  rush  was  about  to  be  made  upon  him,  but 
Major  Breckinridge  intervened.  He  deprecated  the  popular 
fury  and  begged  that  the  man  should  be  allowed  to  remain, 
modestly  announcing  the  belief  that  if  he  would  listen  he  would 
be  converted.  The  crowd  was  pacified,  the  defiant  disturber 
of  the  peace  grunted  that  he  would  be  quiet  and  listen,  but  ad 
ded,  "You'll  have  a  hell  of  a  time  convertin'  of  me,"  and  the 
orator  proceeded. 

The  speech  was  now  addressed  particularly  to  this  man,  who 
still  maintained  a  belligerent  demeanour.  No  longer  noisy  and 
boisterous,  he  was  yet  sufficiently  demonstrative  in  look  and 
gesture,  and  intimated  his  dissent  by  derisive  glances  and  half- 
muttered  ejaculations  of  contempt.  Gradually,  however,  his 
manner  changed  as  the  voice  whose  "mellifluous  thunder  "was 
used  to  sway  all  hearts,  poured  upon  him  the  tide  of  its  winning, 
resistless  eloquence.  His  corrugated  brow  relaxed,  the  smile 
of  scorn  faded  from  his  lip,  he  shifted  from  one  foot  to  the  other, 
like  a  bear  on  hot  plates,  and  turned  once  or  twice  as  if  seeking 
to  escape,  but  the  dense  crowd  held  him  in  his  place.  Tears 
,at  length  began  to  steal  down  his  cheeks,  and,  finally  bursting 


REMINISCENCES  OF 

into  sobs,  he  exclaimed,  "By  hell,  Brackenridge!  You  kin  beat 
'em  all.  I'm  fer  you  agin'  the  worl'."  , 

The  effect  was  electrical.  All  opposition  was  destroyed,  and 
in  one  grand  cheer  the  crowd  declared  itself  unanimous  "for 
Breckinridge." 

As  the  major  and  Mr.  Cohen  were  driving  home  in  the  cool 
of  the  evening,  the  former,  still  aglow  with  his  triumph,  alluded 
to  the  incident  just  described  with  pardonable  pride: 

"I  must  have  been  making  a  pretty  good  speech,"  he  said, 
"to  affect  that  fellow  the  way  I  did." 

"You  think  you  did  it,  do  you?"  said  Cohen  dryly,  with  a 
quizzical  glance  out  of  the  corner  of  his  eye. 

An  indescribable  dismay  smote  the  major;  an  awful  feeling  that 
some  cherished  conviction  was  about  to  be  dissipated. 

"Why,"  he  stammered,  "what  do  you  mean?" 

"Well,  I'll  tell  you.  While  you  were  mixing  I  caught  sight 
of  that  fellow,  who  is  the  rankest  bummer  unhung,  but  as  smart 
as  an  old  fox.  I  knew  that  the  people  about  here  didn't  know 
much  of  him,  for  he  don't  live  in  this  precinct.  Thinks  I,  I'll 
put  him  to  work.  I  called  him  to  one  side  and  said,  'Bill,  how  do 
you  stand  in  this  race  ?'  He  answered,  'I  ain't  in  it.  Neither  side 
ain't  showed  cause  yet.'  ' Well,'  I  said, '  I  '11  give  you  ten  dollars  if 
you  will  go  to  work  for  Breckinridge.'  He  reflected  for  a  moment. 
*  Jim  Cohen,'  he  said/if  you'll  make  it  twenty-five  dollars,  I'll  act 
a  piece  afore  that  crowd  to-day  which  'ull  fetch  every  dad-burned 
son  of  a  gun  in  it;  git  'em  all.  I'll  jes'  have  a  whoopin'  fer  Brack 
enridge.'  With  that  he  sketched  the  programme  you  saw  him 
carry  out.  Before  he  got  half  through  I  closed  the  bargain.  I  felt 
sure  that  you  would  show  up  well  —  do  the  magnanimous,  and  all 
that,  and  I  believed  we  had  the  work  done. 

"Now,  don't  you  think  I  did  pretty  well?"  General  Breckin 
ridge  always  declared  that,  after  hearing  this,  for  a  moment  he 
felt  stunned,  and  then,  as  it  all  dawned  upon  him  in  its  full  sig 
nificance,  as  he  realized  the  dramatic  perfection  and  histrionic 
success  of  the  incident,  he  forgot  all  chagrin  and  disappointment 
in  admiration  of  the  chief  performer's  ingenuity  and  cheek. 

The  "joint"  political  discussion  wherein  the  candidates,  or 
representatives  of  contending  parties,  or  rival  aspirants  for  politi 
cal  preferment,  met  on  the  rostrum  in  actual  debate,  once  sq 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  439 

popular  and  frequent,  has  now  gone  almost  entirely  out  of  fashion 
in  Kentucky  and  is,  I  believe,  equally  as  obsolete  in  other  com 
munities  where  it  was  formerly  as  prevalent. 

The  lists  are  now  almost  closed  against  such  forensic  contests 
and  oratorical  gladiators  must  meet  and  exhibit  themselves  before 
courts  and  juries  only,  or  furnish  the  public  no  opportunity  of 
determining  their  respective  merits  by  immediate  comparison. 
The  champion  who  was  once  spurred  to  emulation  by  the  pres 
ence  of  his  competitor,  or  warned  to  caution  by  risk  of  prompt 
retort  or  successful  contradiction  before  the  same  audience  he 
had  just  exhorted,  no  longer  feels  the  same  incentive  or  the 
necessity  of  such  discretion.  He  not  only  addresses  a  crowd 
composed  in  large  measures  of  those  who  already  agree  with  him, 
but  has  the  field  to  himself,  a  clear  track,  and  trots,  as  it  were, 
"against  time."  It  is  not  surprising,  therefore,  that  the  old 
time  stump  oratory  is  almost  a  lost  art. 

While  less  interesting  than  when  the  speakers  were  directly 
pitted  against  each  other,  in  that  the  partisan  feeling  elicited  is 
not  so  keen,  and  the  excitement  of  contest  under  better  control, 
the  modern  method  is  for  those  very  reasons,  perhaps,  preferable. 
Political  debate,  however  conducted,  is  apt  to  evoke  bad  feeling; 
and  it  is  certainly  better  that  it  should  not  cause  bloodshed, 
as  in  the  old  times  it  sometimes  did  not  only  with  the  principals, 
but  among  their  friends  and  supporters.  It  is  true  that  the  sud 
den  and  violent  extinction  occasionally  of  some  hot-blooded 
citizen,  who  was  unable  to  conclude  an  argument  without  pro 
ducing  a  weapon,  was  not  regarded  as  an  irreparable  loss  to  the 
community.  I  have  read  a  story  somewhere  in  which  it  is  re 
lated  that  two  war  vessels,  English  and  Dutch  respectively,  met 
upon  the  high  seas  shortly  after  peace  had  been  concluded  be 
tween  the  two  nations.  Each  commander,  anxious  to  do  the 
civil  thing  and  evince  good  form,  fired  a  salute.  Unfortunately 
the  shot  had  not  been  withdrawn  from  one  of  the  English  guns, 
and  the  big  bullet,  fulfilling  the  billet  for  which  it  was  originally 
intended,  killed  a  Dutchman.  The  English  captain  despatched 
a  boat  in  great  haste,  bearing  an  officer  commissioned  to 
make  profuse  apology,  and  explain  that  "it  was  entirely  acci 
dental."  The  Dutch  captain  received  the  explanation  in 
admirably  good  temper. 


440  REMINISCENCES  OF 

"It  is  all  right,"  he  said,  "Dere  is  blenty  more  Dutchmens 
in  Holland,  blenty  more." 

When,  in  the  old  days,  debate  transcended  the  limit  of  parlia 
mentary  order  and  decorum,  resulting  in  an  accident  of  like  na 
ture,  people  with  a  philosophy  akin  to  that  of  the  Dutchman 
reflected  that  there  was  an  abundance  of  similar  material  to 
supply  the  place  of  the  gentleman  who  had  fallen. 

Many  such  joint  discussions  were  duly  reported  and  are  there 
fore  accurately  preserved;  many  others  survive  only  in  tradition. 
One  of  the  most  interesting  and  spirited  of  the  latter,  doubtless 
well  remembered  yet  by  a  number  of  men  still  living,  occurred 
at  Lexington  two  or  three  years  after  the  close  of  the  war.  I 
heard  it,  and  its  salient  features  are  almost  as  fresh  in  my  memory 
as  if  it  were  a  matter  of  yesterday. 

The  election  of  a  commonwealth's  attorney  for  that  judicial 
district  was  approaching,  and  was  eliciting  unusual  interest 
because  of  the  personnel  of  the  candidates. 

The  two  first  who  entered  the  field,  Col.  W.  C.  P.  Breckinridge 
and  Capt.  Lawrence  Jones,  were  extremely  popular  .and  very 
highly  regarded.  Colonel  Breckinridge  became  afterward  so 
well  known  that  it  is  scarcely  necessary  to  more  than  allude  to 
his  marvellous  gift  of  oratory,  not  fully  developed  then,  but 
already  making  him  famous.  Captain  Jones  was  a  man  of  high 
character  and  strong  sense  and  a  clear  and  forcible  speaker. 
Soon  afterward  the  Hon.  Edward  Marshall  announced  himself. 
He  was  in  the  meridian  of  his  intellectual  powers,  brilliant, 
eloquent,  witty,  and  the  most  consummate  actor  that  ever  trod 
the  rostrum.  He  had  served  with  distinction  in  congress,  and 
his  reputation  as  an  orator  and  politician  was  national.  He  was, 
however,  extremely  erratic,  and  his  sarcastic  tongue  had  made 
him  many1  enemies.  He  was  accustomed  to  say  of  himself  that 
"the  people  would  rather  hear  me  speak  than  anybody,  and 
would  rather  vote  for  anybody  than  me." 

The  latest  to  appear  in  the  ring,  but  by  no  means  the  less 
confident  of  success  on  that  account,  or  indisposed  to  compen 
sate  for  delay  by  especial  activity  and  effort,  was  Gen.  John  S. 
Williams. 

In  this  quadrilateral  contest,  Marshall  laboured  under  one 
decided  disadvantage.  At  that  date  the  people  of  Kentucky 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  441 

were  greatly  in  love  with  Confederate  soldiers;  and  although 
Marshall  had  been  an  avowed  and  intense  Southern  sympathizer 
— •  had,  indeed,  been  sent  to  prison  because  of  his  Southern  pro 
clivities  '- —  he  had  not  served  in  the  Southern  army.  The  other 
three  had  well  known  records  as  Confederate  soldiers  —  Williams 
and  Breckinridge  had  won  real  distinction,  and  all  three  were  as 
ready  to  assert  and  improve  that  claim  as  the  people  were  to 
recognize  it. 

Williams  was  also  a  veteran  of  the  Mexican  war;  had  gone  in 
as  a  captain  and  been  promoted  to  a  colonelcy,  and  had  ac 
quired  by  a  display  of  exceptional  gallantry  in  that  battle, 
the  soubriquet  of  "Cerro  Gordo"  Williams.  He  was  an  ex 
tremely  handsome  man,  tall,  large,  and  splendidly  proportioned, 
with  a  manner  and  bearing  which  clearly  indicated  that 
he  believed  himself  entitled  to  a  large  share  of  popular  appro 
bation  and  was  fully  determined  to  claim  his  rights.  He  had 
a  large  following  and  a  host  of  devoted  personal  friends,  for 
he  possessed  many  generous  and  manly  qualities.  He  was 
withal  an  adroit  poiltician  and  one  of  the  best  stump  speakers 
in  Kentucky. 

As  brigadier-general  in  the  Confederate  army  he  had  rendered 
excellent  service  and  had  won  and  deserved  a  high  reputation 
for  courage  and  efficiency.  He  had  many  enviable  exploits 
to  his  credit,  but  the  most  conspicuous  was  his  repulse  of  the 
first  attempt  by  the  Federals  to  capture  the  salt  works  in  south 
western  Virginia,  when  he  defeated  Burbridge  at  Saltville  in  a 
hotly  contested  combat,  fought  against  great  odds.  Full  justice 
has  never  been  done  General  Williams  for  his  conduct  in  that 
battle,  and  for  the  really  important  victory  which  he  gained. 
But  the  reason,  perhaps,  why  other  people  did  not  comment 
upon  it  more  frequently  was  because  he  mentioned  it  so  often 
himself.  It  was  a  favourite  topic  of  discourse  with  him,  and 
any  one  who  ventured  a  suggestion  which  detracted  in  any  degree 
from  his  full  credit  for  the  success  achieved  there  incurred  his 
dire  and  everlasting  displeasure. 

Befpre  the  war  Williams  had  been  a  resident  and  citizen 
of  the  judicial  district  in  which  he  was  seeking  office,  but  for 
nearly  a  year  after  the  close  of  the  war  had  resided  in  New  Or 
leans,  and  for  another  year  thereafter  had  lived  in  Logan  County, 


442  REMINISCENCES  OF 

Kentucky.  Grave  doubts,  therefore,  of  his  eligibility  were  enter 
tained,  and,  by  those  who  were  opposed  to  him,  fully  expressed; 
inasmuch  as  he  had  returned  to  the  district  only  two  or 
three  months  previously  to  the  announcement  of  his 
candidacy. 

He  was  not  the  sort  of  man,  however,  to  permit  a  little  thing 
like  that  to  hinder  his  attainment  of  an  important  object.  So 
phisticated  distinctions  of  that  nature  troubled  him  very  little, 
and  mere  geographical  lines  or  ill  considered  statutory  limita 
tions  could  not  prevent  him  rendering  useful  public  service. 
He  stated,  in  a  way  that  obviated  all  negation,  that  he  had 
been  absent  from  Clark  County  for  the  past  four  years  by  the 
cruelest  compulsion,  and  all  the  time  animo  revertendi;  and  now 
that  he  was  back  again,  he  intended  to  claim  all  of  his  rights 
and  privileges  as  a  citizen,  and  hold  any  office  the  people  might 
choose  to  give  him. 

At  that  time  Breckinridge,  whose  law  practice  was  not  so 
lucrative  as  it  subsequently  became,  was  editing  the  Lexington 
Observer  and  Reporter.  During  the  heat  of  the  canvass,  an  article 
appeared  in  this  paper  severely  criticizing  General  Williams's 
attitude  in  the  race,  roundly  asserting  that  he  was  not  eligible 
to  the  office  he  sought,  and,  in  utter  defiance  of  historic 
truth,  declaring  that  his  claim  to  be  the  hero  of  Saltville  was 
altogether  unfounded. 

Williams,  of  course,  supposed  that  Breckinridge  was  the 
author  of  this  article  —  it  appeared  as  an  editorial  —  and  was 
naturally  exceedingly  indignant.  In  fact,  Breckinridge  had  not 
written  the  article,  and  was  in  no  wise  responsible  for  it,  except 
in  that  it  was  published  in  the  paper  of  which  he  was  editor. 

It  was  one  of  those  unfortunate  journalistic  accidents  which 
have  more  than  once  caused  trouble.  While  actively  engaged 
in  his  canvass,  Breckinridge  had  been  compelled  to  invoke 
assistance  in  his  editorial  work,  and  had  requested  a  friend  to 
conduct  that  department  when  he  himself  should  be  absent; 
and  this  gentleman,  more  zealous  than  discreet,  had  conceived 
the  idea  of  eliminating  from  the  contest,  by  one  trenchant  edi 
torial  stroke,  the  colonel's  most  formidable  antagonist.  Breck 
inridge  promptly  sent  word  to  Williams,  explaining  how  the 
matter  had  happened,  disclaiming  any  endorsement  of  the 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  443 

offensive  statements,  and  offering  to  make  any  amende  which 
mutual  friends  might  deem  proper. 

But  the  general's  ire  was  too  thoroughly  aroused  to  permit 
of  his  consenting  to  any  amicable  adjustment.  .He  might 
possibly  have  overlooked  other  objectionable  matter,  but  the 
impugnment  of  his  Saltville  record  was  unpardonable.  He 
discerned  also,  he  thought,  an  opportunity  of  making  good  politi 
cal  capital  out  of  the  manifest  injustice  which  had  been  done 
him,  and  sternly  rejected  all  overtures.  He  preferred  a  grievance 
to  an  apology. 

He  accordingly  gave  formal  notice  that  on  a  certain  evening 
he  would  speak  in  Lexington  and  answer  seriatim  and  fully  the 
statements  contained  in  the  said  article,  all  of  which  he  pledged 
himself  to  prove  conclusively  to  be  false  and  injurious.  He 
invited  his  competitors  to  be  present,  and  requested  the  largest 
possible  attendance  of  his  fellow-citizens,  especially  those  who 
were  entitled  to  vote,  in  order  that  he  might  establish  fairly 
and  fully  the  justice  of  every  claim  he  had  ever  asserted. 

Of  course,  when  the  appointed  date  arrived  a  large  and  in 
terested  crowd  was  in  attendance,  and  public  expectation  was 
on  the  alert  to  hear  speeches  in  which  the  personal  equation 
would  be  largely  represented. 

When  the  audience,  composed  not  only  of  citizens  of  Lexington 
and  the  immediate  vicinity  but  of  many  others  from  neighbour 
ing  counties,  was  assembled,  General  Williams  mounted  the 
rostrum.  The  other  candidates,  except  Breckinridge,  were 
present.  Breckinridge  was  compelled  to  attend  a  meeting  at 
a  neighbouring  town  that  afternoon,  where  he  was  booked  to 
speak,  but  had  notified  his  friends  that  he  would  return  in 
time  to  hear  and  answer  anything  which  the  general  might  say 
about  him. 

If  there  had  been  any  previous  doubt  that  General  Williams 
was  disposed  to  make  matters  warm  and  interesting,  it  was  dis 
pelled  by  the  first  sentences  which  he  uttered. 

He  announced  with  impressive  solemnity  that  a  double  obli 
gation  was  imposed  upon  him;  that  he  felt  it  just  and  proper 
to  make  a  statement  due  his  own  reputation,  and  necessary,  also, 
to  vindicate  the  truth  of  history!  It  might  become  his  painful 
duty,  he  said,  in  the  course  of  his  remarks,  to  comment  severely 


444  REMINISCENCES  OF 

upon  the  conduct  of  one  of  his  opponents,  but,  however  unpleas 
ant  that  duty  might  be,  he  would  not  shrink  from  its  perform 
ance;  no  consideration  should  restrain  him  from  dealing  fairly 
and  candidly  with  the  people  whose  suffrages  he  asked. 

Then,  with  a  voice  constantly  increasing  in  volume  and  unmis 
takable  symptoms  of  a  rapidly  rising  temperature,  he  read  the 
article  from  the  Observer  and  Reporter,  in  which  his  right  to  be 
styled  the  "hero  of  Saltville"  was  questioned,  and  fiercely  and 
unequivocally  charged  Breckinridge  with  its  responsibility. 
By  way  of  establishing  the  claim,  which  skeptical  and  sarcastic 
criticism  was  now  assailing,  he  gave  the  history,  not  only  of  the 
battle,  but  of  the  campaign  immediately  preceding  it.  He 
recited  the  conditions  which  rendered  it  absolutely  necessary 
to  repel  the  threatened  Federal  attack  and  to  conserve  to  the 
Confederacy  the  department  of  South-western  Virginia  —  more 
especially  the  salt  works  —  and  in  glowing  and  picturesque 
language  described  the  consternation  with  which  the  approach 
of  the  Yankees  had  stricken  the  inhabitants  of  that  region, 
and  the  concern  so  dire  a  threat  occasioned  the  authorities  at 
Richmond.  With  a  modesty  equalled  only  by  the  candid  and 
convincing  way  in  which  it  was  stated,  he  related  the  judicious 
dispositions  which  were  made  —  under  his  operation,  although 
not  by  his  sole  direction  —  to  meet  and  roll  back  this  formidable 
invasion;  and  having  thus  wrought  his  hearers  up  to  the  highest 
pitch  of  expectation,  he  entered  upon  a  description  of  the 
combat  itself. 

Seated  near  the  stand  was  a  well  known  and  gallant  ex- 
Confederate  officer  —  Capt.  Orville  West  —  who  had  served 
on  General  Williams'  staff  at  Saltville;  and  in  the  course  of  his 
speech,  more  particularly  when  narrating  some  peculiarly 
striking  and  interesting  incident,  the  general  would  turn  to  the 
captain  and  say,  " Isn't  that  so,  Captain  West?"  or,  "Do  you 
not  remember  this,  Captain  West?"  and  the  captain  would  bow 
and  smile  assent. 

But  as  the  speech  progressed  in  a  fervid  flow  of  mingled  imag 
ination  and  invective,  when  the  torrent  of  ardent  and  angry 
eloquence  broke  over  the  boundaries  not  only  of  memory,  but 
of  a  reasonable  credulity,  and  threatened  to  scorch  like  a  stream 
of  lava  any  one  rash  enough  to  hint  dissent,  Captain  West 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  445 

became  restless  and  apprehensive.  A  pained  and  startled  ex 
pression  replaced  the  original  smile  upon  his  face,  and  he  looked 
like  a  man  who  wished  to  plead  a  pressing  engagement  and  leave. 
But  when  General  Williams  reached  the  climax  of  his  recital 
Captain  West  utterly  succumbed. 

"Finally,"  said  the  general,  "the  Yankees,  anticipated  in 
every  movement  which  they  attempted,  and  foiled  in  every  on 
slaught  they  made,  essayed  as  a  last  resort  to  break  through  the 
left  of  my  position  by  a  determined  charge  of  cavalry.  I  had 
expected  something  of  the  kind  and  had  prepared  to  receive 
and  defeat  any  such  effort.  The  few  troops  at  my  disposal 
had  been  imperatively  needed  at  other  points  of  my  line,  and  I 
could  not  strengthen  this  point  without  endangering  others; 
but  I  had  stationed  there  a  battery  of  four  pieces  of  artillery  under 
an  excellent  and  thoroughly  reliable  young  officer.  I  warned  him 
that  the  Yankees  at  some  time  during  the  battle  would  charge 
him  with  cavalry,  and  directed  him  what  to  do.  'When  they 
come,'  I  said,  'reserve  your  fire  until  they  are  right  upon  you. 
Double-shot  your  guns  with  grape,  and  when  the  forefeet  of  the 
hostile  horses  are  clanging  upon  their  muzzles,  pull  your  lanyards.' 
He  implicitly  obeyed  my  instructions.  The  Yankee  cavalry 
charged  gallantly.  They  rushed  upon  that  battery  with  sabres 
whirling,  and  at  such  speed  that  the  foam  from  the  mouths  of 
the  horses  shot  back  into  the  faces  of  the  riders.  Nothing,  it 
seemed,  would  be  able  to  withstand  their  onset.  But  just  as 
the  horses  were  rearing  in  front  of  the  battery  and  about  to 
plunge  upon  the  cannon,  the  lanyards  were  pulled  and  the  red 
and  deadly  glut  rushed  forth.  Fellow-citizens,  I  shudder  even 
now  when  I  remember  the  effect  of  that  terrible  volley.  That 
cavalry  went  down  before  it  as  the  half-ripened  wheat  goes 
down  before  a  storm  of  wind  and  hail.  Those  who  were  near 
enough  could  hear  the  bones  crash  in  that  ill-fated  column,' 
as,  in  the  bleak  December,  you  have  heard  the  sleet  dash 
against  your  windows." 

The  entire  audience  was  immensely  impressed  by  this  vivid 
picture.  The  old  farmers,  especially,  realized  its  horror.  Their 
hair  stood  on  end  and  their  flesh  crept,  notwithstanding  the  vic 
tims  were  Yankees.  Then  General  Williams  turned  and  in  a 
voice  like  thunder  asked,  "Isn't  that  so,  Captain  West?" 


446  REMINISCENCES  OF 

Captain  West  was  a  loyal  staff  officer;  no  one  was  ever  more  so. 
He  desired  to  do  his  full  duty  and  stand  by  his  chief;  but  there 
are  limits  to  human  endurance.  He  essayed  to  furnish  the  usual 
tokens  of  corroboration;  but  he  was  over  taxed,  his  nerve  was 
flanked  and,  after  an  ineffectual  effort  to  bow  and  smile,  he 
dropped  from  his  chair  in  a  limp  and  fainting  condition. 

Some  time  before  General  Williams  had  concluded  his  speech, 
Breckinridge  entered  the  house  and  heard  the  greater  part  of 
the  criticism  bestowed  upon  himself.  Even  had  he  not  been 
inclined  to  answer  it,  his  friends  would  have  insisted  that  he 
should  do  so;  and  he  needed  little  urging.  As  soon,  therefore, 
as  Williams  sat  down,  Breckinridge  began  to  speak. 

He  had  little  difficulty  in  convincing  the  audience  that  he  was 
guiltless  of  the  most  serious  charge  the  general  had  preferred, 
that  of  having  used  his  editorial  position  to  aid  his  own  canvass 
and  injure  that  of  an  opponent,  but,  smarting  under  Williams's 
caustic  censure,  he  unfortunately,  although  quite  naturally, 
retorted  in  kind,  and  with  a  severity  that  in  his  cooler  moments 
he  regretted.  He  not  only  successfully  defended  his  own  mili 
tary  record  but  attacked  that  of  General  Williams,  and  thus 
the  Confederates  witnessed,  to  their  scandal  and  sorrow,  two 
of  their  favourite  representatives  assailing  each  other,  and  doing 
more  serious  detriment  to  the  Confederate  prestige  than  many 
score  of  civilian  politicians  could  have  accomplished. 

The  most  lamentable,  not  to  say  ludicrous,  feature  of  the 
matter,  was  that  neither  was  sincere  in  his  attack  upon  the 
other,  for  each  was  on  record  —  and  honestly  so  —  as  having 
testified  to  the  other's  merit  as  a  soldier.  But  here  were  two 
comrades,  who  had  "fought,  bled,"  and  nearly  "died  together," 
denouncing  each  other  like  scullions  in  the  effort  to  obtain  an 
office  that  neither  would  have  sought  had  he  known  in  advance 
that  such  altercation  would  have  resulted. 

Breckinridge,  excited  by  frequent  interruption,  finally  became 
so  warm  in  rejoinder  that  a  personal  encounter  between  the  two 
was  barely  averted.  The  discussion  was  brought  to  a  sudden 
termination  by  a  declaration  from  Williams  that  he  thought  the 
time  for  words  had  passed  and  that  for  action  had  arrived,  and, 
as  Breckinridge  manifestly  entertained  the  same  opinion,  a  clash 
seemed  inevitable.  Their  partisans,  having  become  thoroughly 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  447 

heated,  loudly  announced  a  willingness  to  participate  in  this 
sort  of  debate,  and  for  a  while  "blood"  was  thick  "upon  the 
face  of  the  moon."  Luckily  some  ingenious  and  quick-witted 
individual  hit  upon  an  expedient  which  diverted  the  thoughts 
of  all  into  a  safer  channel  and  prevented  the  collision  of  which 
there  had  been  imminent  danger. 

A  voice  called  loudly  for  Marshall,  and  the  cry  was  immedi 
ately  taken  up  and  shouted  from  all  parts  of  the  hall.  Marshall 
mounted  the  stand.  He  was  pale,  and  seemed  to  be  greatly 
agitated;  but  this  was  only  a  part  of  the  consummate  acting 
of  which  he  was  capable.  He  said  that  he  responded  to  the  call 
made  upon  him  with  extreme  reluctance.  He  had  hoped,  it 
was  true,  to  address  his  fellow-citizens  on  that  evening,  but 
under  quite  different  circumstances.  He  deeply  regretted,  he 
said,  the  altercation  which  they  had  just  witnessed,  and  felt 
that,  perhaps,  he  ought  to  be  silent.  This  was  a  family  quarrel 
between  the  Confederates,  with  which  other  candidates  had 
nothing  to  do  and  had  better  not  meddle  with.  Nevertheless, 
as  it  seemed  that  the  crowd  wished  to  hear  him,  he  would  try 
what  he  could  do  as  a  pacificator. 

He  professed,  however,  an  utter  inability  to  understand  the 
reason  for  so  much  excitement.  He  picked  up  the  paper  con 
taining  the  article  which  had  given  so  much  offence,  examined 
it  carefully,  held  it  on  the  further  side  of  the  gas  jet  in  order  that 
he  might  discern  more  clearly  what  there  was  in  it  so  obnoxious, 
but  declared  that  he  could  discover  nothing  "of  a  mortal  or  even 
dangerous  character." 

"But,"  he  said,  "I  find  to  my  great  mortification,  after  what 
I  have  heard  this  evening,  that  while  I  prided  myself  upon  know 
ing  a  great  deal  about  the  Civil  War,  I  have  really  been  very 
ignorant.  I  had  heard  the  names  of  Robert  E.  Lee,  Albert 
Sidney  Johnston  and  Stonewall  Jackson,  of  Forrest  and  Morgan 
and  Stuart,  and  I  fondly  believed  that  they  had  taken  some  part 
in  the  conflict.  It  seems  that  I  was  mistaken;  that  the  informa 
tion  I  have  been  at  such  pains  to  acquire  is  altogether  fallacious, 
and  that  the  only  two  leaders  of  real  note  and  merit  in  the  Con 
federate  army  were  Gen.  John  S.  Cerro  Gordo  Saltville 
Williams,  and  my  cousin,  Col.  William  Cabell  Preston  Breckin- 
ridge;  and  as  the  classic  god  of  war  sometimes  ruled  the  battle 


, 


448  REMINISCENCES  OF 

under  the  name  of  Mars  and  then  again  as  Enyalyon,  so  Wil 
liams  and  Breckinridge,  under  various  appellations,  dealt  death 
and  destruction  to  the  enemies  of  the  South.  It  was  difficult, 
fellow-citizens,  to  shake  my  confidence  in  the  ultimate  success 
of  the  Confederacy;  I  believed  and  hoped  to  the  last,  but  if  I  had 
known  what  these  two  gentlemen  had  done,  were  doing,  and 
would  do  if  opportunity  permitted,  I  should  not  have  credited 
the  news  of  Confederate  surrender  even  when  announced 
by  Lee." 

He  said  that  he  also  had  burned  with  a  desire  for  military  glory 
at  the  very  time  that  Colonel  Breckinridge  had  joined  the  Con 
federate  army,  and  the  real  reason  why  Colonel  Breckinridge 
and  not  he  had  become  a  hero,  was  to  be  found  in  a  difference  in 
horse-flesh.  "We  started  for  the  Confederacy,"  he  said,  "at 
the  same  date.  He  was  mounted  on  a  superb  thoroughbred 
mare  and  distanced  all  pursuit.  I  was  riding  a  wind-galled, 
frost-bitten  pony.  A  big  Michigan  infantry  man  met  me  in 
the  pike.  I  was  foolish  enough  to  think  the  pony  could  outrun 
him  and  tried  to  escape.  In  three  strides  he  overtook  me,  caught 
the  pony  by  the  tail  and  me  by  the  collar  and  I  was  sent  to  Camp 
Chase.  Had  I  been  on  the  mare  and  Colonel  Breckinridge  on 
the  pony,  how  unlike  would  be  now  our  respective  political 
fortunes :  it  might  even,  indeed,  have  wrought  some  difference 
in  the  fate  of  the  Confederacy.  As  it  is,  he  stands  here  the  peer 
of  Cerro  Gordo  Saltville  Williams;  if  he  doesn't  get  the  office 
he  now  seeks,  he  will  get  some  other,  while  I  shall  be  lucky  if 
I  can  pick  up  a  few  crumbs  after  all  the  Confederates  have  eaten." 

Marshall  proceeded  in  this  strain  for  more  than  an  hour, 
and  if  his  real  object  was  "pacification"  he  certainly  accomplished 
it.  There  was  never  a  crowd,  perhaps,  so  absolutely  converted 
from  a  temper  in  which  bloodshed  had  seemed  almost  inevitable 
to  perfect  good  humour. 

At  one  time  the  people  of  the  Northern  as  well  as  those  of 
the  Southern  states  were  wont  to  say  and,  perhaps,  inclined  to  be 
lieve  that  they  little  resembled  one  another,  each  ascribing  to 
themselves  peculiar  and  supposedly  superior  virtues  claimed 
to  be  inherent  or  hereditary.  They  spoke  of  the  matter  as 
if  they  had  come  of  widely  different  stocks,  and  seemed  to  think 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  449 

"Cavalier "and "Puritan "as little  akin  as  Caucasian  and  Mongol. 
Very  few  of  them,  even  of  the  well  informed,  chose  to  remember 
or  cared  to  consider  whether  a  residence  of  some  two  hundred  and 
fifty  years  in  localities  not  greatly  distant  from  each  other,  and 
exhibiting  no  great  dissimilarity  in  climatic  conditions,  could 
have  wrought  any  decided  change  in  the  natures  of  men  who 
came  orginally  of  the  same  breed  and  from  the  same  lands. 

A  bitter  quarrel  had  prevailed  long  enough  to  cause  them  tem 
porarily  to  forget  their  earlier  history,  their  pioneer  struggles 
with  the  wilderness  and  the  savage,  the  toils  and  dangers  they 
had  shared  in  the  Revolution,  and  the  more  recent  years  of  fra 
ternal  effort  and  glory.  They  were  angry  with  each  other  and 
found  it  distasteful  to  admit  or  believe  that  they  were  of  the 
same  family. 

That  they  are  fundamentally  the  same  people,  notwithstanding 
any  variant  influence  of  environment,  has  been  abundantly  shown 
by  the  numerous  examples,  in  peace  and  war,  in  which  the  North 
ern  and  the  Southern  man  has  each,  under  similar  circumstances, 
acted  in  the  same  fashion,  evidently  urged  by  like  impulse, 
and  as  might  have  been  expected  of  an  American  descended  from 
staunch  British  or  Teutonic  stock.  There  were  notable  instances 
of  this  during  the  Civil  War.  "Blue-blooded"  Southerners, 
following  their  convictions,  fought  for  the  Union  and  adhered 
to  "Yankee"  ideas  with  a  tenacity  equal  to  that  of  the  grimmest 
Puritan.  There  were  men  of  Northern  birth,  who^  by  long 
residence  in  the  South,  had  become  thoroughly  imbued  with 
Southern  sentiment  and  thought,  and  had  developed  what 
are  generally  considered  the  salient  traits  of  the  Southern  char 
acter.  I  knew  men  from  New  England  who  became  inveterate 
"rebels"  and,  as  Confederate  soldiers,  displayed  that  reckless 
dash  and  daring,  once  thought  to  be  essentially  Southern,  in  such 
degree  as  to  win  them  notice  among  the  boldest  of  their  comrades. 

Yet  while  in  all  material  respects,  in  blood,  in  traditions,  in 
ideas  of  how  conduct,  social  and  political,  should  be  regulated, 
and  in  their  general  mode  of  life,  almost  the  entire  native  popu 
lation  of  this  country,  fifty  years  ago  and  previously  was  as 
nearly  homogeneous  as  any  people,  so  numerous  and  spread 
over  so  wide  an  area,  could  well  be,  there  were  minor  differences 
in  habits,  manner,  and  speech  that  were  noticeable  — far  more  so, 


450  REMINISCENCES  OF 

at  least,  than  now.  These  mere  provincial  peculiarities  —  their 
effect  exaggerated  by  mutual  jealously  and  distrust  —  served 
fifty  years  ago  to  enhance  antagonism  and  furnish  illustrations 
for  those  who  preached  the  creed  that  the  peoples  of  the  two 
sections  were  alien  in  race. 

These  differences,  especially  of  speech,  were  not  nearly  so 
marked,  perhaps,  as  those  to  be  found  elsewhere  among  many 
peoples  of  the  same  nationality  —  as  the  various  patois  of  Conti 
nental  Europe,  or  the  dialects  of  the  English  shires.  It  is  pos 
sible  that  the  shrewdest  foreign  observer  would  not  have  detected 
them,  but  they  were  quite  apparent  to  the  native.  An  American 
would  discover,  in  almost  every  case,  what  part  of  the  country 
a  stranger  with  whom  he  talked  hailed  from,  by  his  voice  and 
mode  of  speech.  Certain  idiomatic  forms  of  expression  were 
unmistakable,  and  no  very  acute  ear  was  required  to  identify 
the  nasal  intonation  of  the  New  Englander,  the  quick,  sharp 
inflection  of  those  reared  in  other  Eastern  states,  the  broad 
Doric  of  Viriginia,  and  the  softer  recitative  of  the  man  from 
the  farther  South.  Culture  and  travel,  or  a  more  extended  in 
tercourse  with  people  of  both  sections,  so  modified  all  such  peculi 
arities  in  those  of  a  certain  class  and  station  that,  with  them, 
they  became  scarcely  discernible;  but  with  the  masses  of  each 
section  they  remained,  for  many  years,  distinctive  badges. 

Even  between  the  natives  of  the  different  Southern  states, 
some  similar  distinguishing  indicia,  although  in  less  degree,  could 
be  detected.  Unquestionably  a  prevailing  social  tone  and 
general  habit  of  thought  were  apparent  among  the  entire  people 
of  the  South,  exhibited,  of  course,  in  such  external  expression 
as  was  consonant  with  individual  intelligence  and  rearing.  But 
while  the  types  were  practically  the  same,  while  one  "  Southern 
gentleman"  was  much  like  another,  and  one  Southern  yeoman 
—  if  I  may  use  the  term  —  closely  resembled  his  every  other 
compatriot  in  Virginia  or  South  Carolina,  Kentucky  or  Georgia, 
nevertheless  there  was  a  more  or  less  marked  but  perceptible 
differentiation  of  manner  and  speech  among  nearly  all  —  suffi 
cient,  at  least,  to  indicate  from  what  state  or  region  each  came. 

Many  of  the  mannerisms  and  colloquial  forms  peculiar  to  the 
South  have  been  greatly  exaggerated  by  recent  writers  of  fiction 
both  Northern  and  native;  and  it  may  be  said,  also,  that  in  some 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  451 

instances  the  Southern  character  has  been  unfairly  as  in  many 
others  it  has  been  erroneously  portrayed.  Perhaps,  however, 
no  great  fault  should  be  found  with  that.  The  Northern  writers 
have  the  excuse  that  they  are  attempting  to  describe  something 
to  which  they  are  not  only  unaccustomed,  but  which  seems 
contradictory  of  previous  experience;  and  the  unusual,  whether 
tragic  or  ludicrous,  is  apt  to  strike  the  oberver  as  being  eccentric, 
if  not  bizarre. 

More  than  one  Southern  writer  seems  impressed  with  the  idea 
that,  in  order  to  perfectly  vindicate  his  birthland  from  unjust 
aspersion  or  gain  her  just  appreciation,  he  must  surround  every 
thing  Southern  with  an  exceptionally  glowing  halo  of  romance. 

It  is  difficult  to  resist  the  temptation  to  either  caricature  or 
idealize;  and  if  exercised  with  due  discretion  and  in  proper  temper, 
the  one  is  no  more  to  be  censured  than  the  other.  We  would  so  on 
lose  interest  in  the  drama  and  the  novel,  if  each  were  confined 
to  bare,  rigid  realism,  and  the  caricaturist  can  often  convey  a 
lively  and  pretty  accurate  idea  of  a  matter  of  which  serious  de 
scription  might  fail  to  furnish  any  conception. 

But  the  disposition  to  caricature  the  Southerner,  whether  in  a 
good-humoured  or  in  a  caustic  spirit,  has,  I  think,  been  unduly 
indulged.  I  cannot  remember  ever  having  met  with  any  South 
erner  in  fiction  whom  I  recognized,  although  his  face  may  have 
been  slightly  familiar  and  his  voice  have  awakened  some  dim 
recollection.  He  was  usually  an  impossible  paragon,  an  abnor 
mal  ruffian,  or  an  attractive  incompetent,  half  darling  and  half 
devil.  Think  of  how  the  high-spirited,  chivalric,  scholarly, 
capable  Virginian,  the  man  of  historic  virtues  and  genial  habits, 
who,  if  he  is  somewhat  given  to  high  prancing  is  withal  as  full 
of  good  sense  and  human  nature  as  an  Old  Dominion  decanter 
is  of  consolation  —  think  of  how  he  has  been  treated.  Why, 
his  own  grandmother  wouldn't  know  him  if  she  met  him  in  a 
novel.  When  we  are  introduced  to  a  Virginian  in  fiction,  we 
see  either  an  elderly,  landed  gentleman,  equipped  with  much 
ornate  and  useless  knowledge  and  a  ruffled  shirt,  and  who  is  an 
authority  on  good  liquors,  states'  rights,  Democratic  platforms, 
and  the  code  of  honour;  or  we  watch  the  progress  of  some  scion 
of  a  first  family,  riding  on  horseback  from  the  paternal  mansion 
to  Kentucky,  Tennessee,  or  Missouri,  stopping  at  the  first 


452  REMINISCENCES  OF 

county  seat  where  he  finds  a  Democratic  convention  in  session, 
hitching  his  steed,  entering  the  court  house  without  taking  off 
his  spurs,  and  announcing  himself  as  a  candidate  for  the  office  of 
county  attorney.  Shades  of  Jefferson  and  Patrick  Henry,  of 
Fitz  Lee  and  Magruder  —  was  ever  such  sacrilege! 

And  has  not  such  unjust  measure  been  meted  out  to  all  other 
denizens  of  the  sacred  soil?  I  enter  no  plea  for  the  Kentuckian; 
they  seem  to  think  he  deserves,  and  he  certainly  receives,  no 
more  quarter  than  an  Irishman. 

But  then  the  Texan!  What  they  do  to  him  might  make  a 
mustang  shed  tears.  Ninety-nine  men  out  of  every  hundred, 
who  know  him  only  in  literature,  imagine  that  his  vast  and  soon 
to  become  imperial  state  is  peopled  only  by  rangers  and  cowboys, 
wearing  the  beaded  effigy  of  a  snake  around  their  hats,  and  notch 
ing  the  stocks  of  their  revolvers  in  memoriam. 

I  believed  at  one  time  that  I  could  distinguish  —  if  only  by 
some  slight  evidence  which  I  couldn't  have  explained  —  the 
native  inhabitants  of  most  of  the  Southern  states.  But  I  was 
never  able  to  tell  a  Kentuckian  from  a  Tennesseean  —  although 
they  were  the  people  whom  I  knew  most  intimately.  The  re 
semblance,  for  me  at  least,  exists  between  the  people  of  the 
corresponding  portions  of  each  state.  A  Kentucky  mountaineer 
is  the  exact  counterpart  of  a  Tennessee  mountaineer;  the  man 
of  central  Kentucky  is  as  much  like  the  man  of  middle  Tennessee 
as  one  chip  cut  out  of  a  white  oak  or  a  hickory  is  like  another; 
and  if  the  entire  population  of  any  one  of  the  counties  of  Western 
Tennessee  should  move  bodily  into  any  one  of  the  counties  of 
Western  Kentucky  —  like  some  ancient  barbarian  immigration 
into  the  territory  of  a  kindred  tribe  —  I  am  sure  that  the  sheriff 
would  never  ascertain  what  had  occurred  because  of  any  per 
ceptible  difference  in  appearance,  speech,  and  demeanour  be 
tween  the  old  residents  and  the  new  comers. 

The  conditions  of  the  pioneer  period  induced  a  connection 
and  understanding  between  the  people  who  occupied  the  terri 
tory  out  of  which  the  two  states  were  subsequently  created, 
which  has  been  maintained  ever  since.  Separated  by  the  almost 
pathless  Appalachian  range  from  the  colonies  on  the  seaboard, 
having  no  neighbours  of  their  own  race  save  each  other,  the 
settlers  of  Kentucky  and  Tennessee  —  and  both  were  settled 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  453 

nearly  about  the  same  time  —  experienced  an  identity  of  sit 
uation  and  fortune  which  seemed  to  indicate  the  same  destiny 
for  both.  Occupying  a  country  alike  in  climate,  soil,  and  pro 
ductions  and  reared  under  influences  so  similar,  a  close  sympathy 
in  thought  and  feeling  has  always  characterized  their  relations. 

This  community  of  interest  and  close  and  frequent  social 
intercourse  between  the  people  of  the  two  states  —  encouraged 
by  geographical  propinquity  and  easy  means  of  communication 
—  necessarily  had  an  effect  upon  both.  But  whatever  may 
have  been  the  cause,  the  Kentuckian  and  Tennesseean  —  to 
use  an  illustration  which  each  will  understand  —  are  as  like  as 
twin  colts  "in  form  and  action,"  and  "go  the  same  gaits"  in  the 
same  style. 

I  saw  a  great  deal  of  the  Tennessee  soldiery  during  the  Civil 
War,  of  both  the  cavalry  and  infantry.  There  was  one  regiment 
in  Morgan's  division  composed  entirely  of  Tennesseeans  —  the 
Ninth  Tennessee  Cavalry  —  and  it  was  one  of  the  best  I  ever 
knew.  In  the  regiment  I  first  commanded  —  Morgan's  original 
regiment,  the  Second  Kentucky  Cavalry.  C.  S.  A. —  there  were, 
probably,  one  hundred  and  fifty  Tennesseeans.  They  were 
in  every  respect,  in  combat,  scout,  and  march,  in  general 
deportment  and  occasional  lack  of  deportment,  exactly 
like  their  Kentucky  confreres;  they  gave  no  more  trouble 
in  camp  than  did  the  Kentuckians  and  in  candour,  it 
must  be  admitted,  no  less.  I  would  and  can  claim  no  superiority 
for  Kentuckians  and  Tennesseeans  over  their  Confederate 
comrades.  It  is  a  great  and  sufficient  honour  to  them  to  affirm 
that  they  were  equal  to  the  best.  Nor,  as  one  who  has  made  up 
his  mind  to  preach  the  gospel  of  reconciliation,  would  I  boast 
fully  speak  of  successes  they  may  have  achieved.  I  will  not 
even  declare  that  every  enemy  who  encountered  them  found 
out  that  "  he  had  had  a  fight."  With  that  caution  and  modesty 
of  statement  becoming  a  man  born  in  Kentucky, and  who  once 
almost  became  an  adopted  citizen  of  Tennessee,  I  shall  merely 
remark  that,  after  every  such  affair,  however  it  terminated,  the 
said  party  of  the  first  part  was  quite  sure  that  he  had  provoked 
a  serious  breach  of  the  peace.  I  am  the  more  content  to  be 
reticent,  for  the  reason  that  I,  somehow,  feel  that  those  of  whom 
I  speak  will  not  permit  the  record  to  suffer. 


454  REMINISCENCES  OF 

I  feel  confident  that  no  intelligent  and  careful  observer  could 
remain  for  any  length  of  time  in  these  states,  mingling  with  the 
people  of  each,  and  noting  those  things  in  which  they  showed 
most  interest,  without  being  impressed  with  the  fact  of  how  nearly 
they  think  and  feel  alike  on  all  essential  matters;  of  how  nearly 
identical  they  are  in  every  thing  idiosyncratic.  If  he  should 
attend  their  public  meetings  he  would  be  struck  with  the  extreme 
similarity,  in  aspect,  utterance,  and  bearing,  of  those  who  fre 
quented  them.  If  he  witnessed  a  political  convention  in  Kentucky 
and  afterward  one  in  Tennessee,  he  might  doubt  whether  there 
was  any  actual  change  of  personnel,  and  if  he  were  not  looking 
upon  the  same  body.  He  might  discern  some  slight  variation 
occasioned  by  purely  local  causes,  some  changes  of  name  and 
issue,  but  in  methods  and  management,  in  atmosphere  and  colour, 
in  the  general  character  of  the  topics  discussed,  he  would  see 
little  that  would  distinguish  the  one  from  the  other.  He  would 
find  no  guide,  certainly,  in  the  delicate  blending  of  sentimental 
politics  with  machine  manipulation,  which  would  be  much  in 
evidence  in  both. 

Possibly,  however,  this  latter  feature  should  not  be  mentioned 
as  being  peculiar  to  Kentucky  and  Tennessee,  although  surely 
very  rife  there.  Nor  also,  the  fervid  and  picturesque  eloquence 
which  resounds  in  the  political  assemblies  and  legislative  halls 
of  those  two  commonwealths  —  "an  eloquence  which,"  in  the 
language  of  an  enthusiastic  critic,  "gleams  about  its  subject 
like  the  forked  lightning,  and  don't  care  a  continental  where 
it  strikes."  That  is  common  to  all  the  South  and  West,  and 
sometimes  illuminates  even  more  conservative  territory. 

I  can  remember  only  one  instance  in  which  I  heard  it  suggested 
that  there  was  any  material  difference  between  the  two  peoples, 
and  I  by  no  means  agreed  with  that.  About  a  year  after  the 
close  of  the  war,  when  the  people  of  Tennessee,  no  longer  har 
assed  by  the  presence  of  large  bodies  of  hostile  troops,  had 
begun  partially  to  realize  that  it  was  over,  and  had  plucked 
up  heart  to  attempt  something  like  their  former  pleasant  social 
life,  I  attended  the  annual  fair  at  Clarksville,  held  for  the  first 
time  since  Tennessee  had  passed  the  ordinance  of  secession. 
I  had  received  a  special  invitation,  gladly  accepted,  because 
I  knew  whom  I  would  meet  the  brave,  warm-hearted  people 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  455 

of  middle  Tennessee,  whose  truth  and  steadfast  constancy  I  had 
seen  so  often  manifested  in  every  form  of  trial,  and  whose  loyal 
friendship  to  my  own  immediate  comrades  I  had  such  reason 
to  remember  with  affection  and  gratitude. 

A  large  crowd  was  assembled  from  the  adjoining  counties  of 
both  Tennessee  and  Kentucky,  in  which  I  found  quite  a  number 
of  young  fellows,  ex-Confederates  from  the  latter  state,  many 
of  whom  had  served  under  my  command.  Everybody  was  given 
generous  welcome,  and  as  cordially  received  it.  The  cup  that 
cheers  and  sometimes  inebriates  was  accepted  as  freely  as  it  was 
offered.  The  older  people  glowed  with  recollections  of  that  former 
time  so  fondly  remembered,  when  the  "annual  harvest  was 
housed,"  and  the  fine  stock  exhibited  amid  general  festivity  and 
in  keen  but  friendly  competition,  and  hoped  that  this  occasion 
crowd  was  the  signal  of  its  return.  The  young  people  were  like  a 
of  boys  and  girls  who  had  been  cooped  up  during  a  long,  hard 
winter,  and  just  turned  loose  for  a  spring  holiday.  During  the 
week  that  the  fair  lasted  there  was  a  universal  indemnification  for 
all  past  deprivation  of  such  pleasures,  and  the  partially  dis 
franchised  white  felt  as  free  as  the  emancipated  darkey. 

But  toward  its  close  something  occurred  which  threatened 
to  mar  its  enjoyment,  for  me  at  least,  and  caused  me  no  slight 
uneasiness.  I  had  more  than  once  noticed  that  the  Kentucky 
boys  had  been  figuring  more  conspicuously  in  the  limelight 
than  was  actually  required  of  them,  and  that  their  conduct, 
in  some  trifling  particulars,  was  not  altogether  such  as  an  unus 
ually  austere  taste  might  have  approved.  Yet  I  couldn't  see 
that  they  were  doing  anything  really  wrong,  and  apprehending 
no  serious  consequences  thought  little  about  the  matter. 

One  afternoon,  however,  a  young  Tennesseean  whom  I  knew 
quite  well,  came  to  me  with  information  of  grave  character. 
He  had  served  for  two  years  in  the  Army  of  Northern  Vir 
ginia,  and  was  then  transferred  to  one  of  Morgan's  regiments,  and 
had  remained  with  that  command  until  the  close  of  the  war. 
He  was  well  acquainted  with  most  of  these  erring  Kentuckians, 
and  felt  in  them  the  interest  of  immediate  comradeship. 

"General,"  he  said,  "there's  a  matter  I  want  to  talk  to  you 
about,  and  yet  I  hesitate  to  do  so.  But  I  know  you  will  under 
stand  me.  Some  of  the  Kentucky  boys  are  acting  in  a  way  that 


456  GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE 

I'm  afraid  will  cause  trouble.  They've  done  nothing  ungentle- 
manly,  but  they're  putting  on  entirely  too  much  style  and  as 
suming  an  air  of  superiority  which  the  boys  who  live  here  find 
very  offensive.  The  fact  that  these  Kentuckians  are  a  good 
deal  with  you,  and  that  you  are  here  by  special  invitation,  has 
held  the  others  in  check  so  far,  but  some  fellow  may  break  loose 
at  any  time." 

He  told  me  that  he  was  chiefly  concerned  lest  the  trouble 
should  be  started  by  a  youngster  who  for  the  last  eight  or  ten 
months  of  the  war  had  been  a  guerilla,  and  had  made  quite  a 
gory  record.  I  knew  something  of  this  man  myself.  He  was  as 
mild  and  pleasant  as  a  May  morning  when  unmolested,  but  as 
bloody  as  a  young  tiger  when  rubbed  the  wrong  way.  "Now," 
he  said,  "whatever  happens,  I  shall  stand  by  the  Kentucky 
boys,  as  my  guests  and  former  comrades,  but  I  think  you  can 
stop  any  unpleasantness.  The  Tennesseeans  have  the  kindest 
feeling  for  you,  and  I  think  you  have  influence  enough  with  the 
Kentuckians  to  induce  them  to  correct  what  has  been  found 
objectionable." 

I  assured  him,  of  course,  that  I  would  at  once  act  as  he  sug 
gested,  and  make  every  effort  to  prevent  the  unseemly  quarrel 
he  feared.  I  felt,  however,  that  it  was  a  matter  in  which  I  must 
proceed  with  a  good  deal  of  discretion,  for  I  knew  that  the  Ken 
tuckians  would  be  greatly  shocked  at  learning  that  such  a  charge 
had  been  preferred  against  them,  and,  in  their  indignation,  might 
precipitate  the  very  thing  we  wished  to  avoid.  So  I  concluded 
to  advise  with  one  of  them  whom  I  knew  to  be  the  shrewdest 
and  most  reasonable,  and,  for  that  purpose,  had  him  come  as 
soon  as  possible  to  my  room.  I  told  him  what  I  had  heard,  and 
that  I  wished  to  consult  with  him  about  what  was  best  to  be  done. 

In  view  of  what  he  said  I  should  explain  that  the  Northern 
newspapers  were  accustomed  to  say  a  good  deal  about  that  time 
regarding  the  alleged  superiority  of  the  civilization  of  the  North 
to  that  of  the  South,  and  the  South  was  becoming  very 
sore  over  it,  especially  as  some  recent  lessons  in  civilization 
the  Yankees  had  given  us  were  neither  palatable  nor  we 
thought  canonical. 

When  I  had  finished  my  statement  my  young  friend  responded 
promptly  that  there  was  reason  for  apprehension. 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  457 

"I  had  intended  to  speak  to  you  about  it  myself,"  he  said, 
"for  our  boys  ought  not  to  behave  that  way.  It  is  an  offence 
against  good  breeding,  and  they  should  remember  that  these 
men  were  our  comrades,  and  that  we  have  never  received  aught 
but  kind  treatment  from  this  people.  "  But,"  he  went  on,  with 
an  air  of  ineffable  complacency,  "there  is  some  slight  excuse  for 
it.  Our  boys  feel  that  we  have  a  higher  civilization  in  Kentucky 
than  obtains  in  Tennessee." 

"For  God's  sake,  Frank,"  I  exclaimed  in  trembling  haste, 
"don't  talk  that  way.  If  there  be  any  difference  in  the  respec 
tive  heights  of  the  two  civilizations,  no  instrument  has  yet  been 
invented  delicate  enough  to  determine  it.  But  don't  say  that 
outside  of  this  room,  unless  you  want  that  blamed  guerilla  to 
kill  us  all." 

I  am  glad  to  record  that  matters  were  happily  adjusted  without 
the  introduction  of  any  disturbing  question  of  civilization. 

I  have  already  spoken  of  the  similitude  of  parliamentary  meth 
ods  in  Kentucky  and  Tennessee.  In  this  connection  I  may  be 
permitted  to  relate  two  legislative  incidents  which  happened 
under  my  own  observation,  taking  care  to  remark,  however, 
that,  while  alike,  they  were  unusual.  Each,  too,  happened  with 
immature  and  inexperienced  politicians,  in  whom  the  impulse 
of  the  individual  had  not  yet  been  subdued  by  the  self-restraint 
of  the  statesman. 

I  was  once  a  spectator  of  a  legislative  session  at  Nashville, 
when  a  vote  was  being  taken  on  some  motion  which  had  aroused 
a  good  deal  of  feeling.  The  speaker  had  temporarily  quitted 
his  chair  for  some  reason  and  it  was  occupied,  at  the  moment 
of  the  vote,  by  a  member  of  the  house  who  was  an  extreme 
partisan  of  the  measure  under* consideration.  He  was  manifestly 
and  grossly  unfair  in  his  rulings,  and  refused  a  call  for  the 
ayes  and  noes.  A  storm  of  protest  at  once  arose  and  the  house 
was  in  an  uproar.  I  saw  the  member  from  a  county  on  the 
confines  of  east  Tennessee  rush  toward  the  chair,  evidently  mean 
ing  business.  He  was  a  gray-eyed,  resolute-looking  party  in 
appearance,  just  the  sort  of  gentleman  who,  in  the  mountaineer's 
phrase,  "When  he  sees  fitten'  to  shoot  is  goin'  to  shoot."  An 
older  and  less  excited  colleague  caught  hold  of  him  and  begged 
him  to  do  nothing  "out  of  order."  "I'm  goin'  to  do  nothing 


458  GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE 

out  of  order,"  he  replied,  "I'm  only  goin'  to  fling  that  d  —  d 
special  speaker  out  of  the  window." 

Some  twenty  or  twenty-five  years  ago  a  very  similar  scene 
occurred  in  the  Kentucky  legislature.  An  earnest  and  impas 
sioned  orator  was  repeatedly  warned  by  the  speaker  that  he  was 
out  of  order.  Instead  of  conforming  his  declamation  to  the 
suggestion,  the  orator  wandered  yet  more  wildly  beyond  the 
proper  boundaries  of  debate,  and  the  speaker  threatened  him  with 
arrest  by  the  sergeant-at-arms.  "No  official  of  this  house  shall 
arrest  me,"  shouted  the  offender  in  tempestuous  wrath.  "I 
should  be  sorry  to  sully  a  hitherto  spotless  legislative  record  by 
slaying  a  sergeant-at-arms,  but  the  rash  man  who  places  a  pro 
faning  hand  upon  my  person  dies  in  his  tracks." 

The  speaker  seemed  disposed  to  be  obdurate,  but  fortunately 
the  sergeant-at-arms  happened,  just  then,  to  have  important 
business  outside  of  the  chamber;  so  finding  his  executive  arm 
out  of  place  the  speaker  permitted  the  orator  to  blow,  like  a 
fierce  wind,  until  his  bellows  were  exhausted. 

I  cannot  abandon  hope  that  the  salient  features  of  the  resem 
blance  I  have  endeavoured  to  trace  —  even  in  those  things  which 
a  colder  critic  might  term  their  "eccentricities" — will  continue 
to  characterize  the  people  of  Kentucky  and  of  Tennessee.  Mel 
lowed  by  time,  and,  in  a  measure,  corrected  by  adaptation  to 
milder  models,  they  may  become  very  beautiful. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

THE  years  which  passed  between  the  fall  of  the  Confed 
eracy  —  the    final    close   of  the   slave-holding   epoch  — 
and    such    time  as  the  people  of  the  states  south  of  the 
Ohio  had  become  appreciably  in  touch  with  the  new  order,  were 
filled  with  minor  events  and  silent  influences,  not  easy  to  specify 
and  more  difficult  to  describe,  yet  each  of  which  not  only  indi 
cated,  but  served,  in  its  measure,  to  induce  the  change  that  was 
going  on. 

Even  in  the  dire  throes  of  reconstruction  and  during  the  des 
perate  efforts  to  retain  that  which  the  people  of  the  South  felt 
to  be  essential  to  their  very  existence,  other  and  better  feelings 
than  those  evoked  by  the  fierce  struggle  were  at  work;  and  the 
experience  and  discipline  learned  in  that  struggle  were  of  benefit. 
Much  —  and  that  which  was  of  most  value  —  was  retained. 
The  Southern  people  preserved  their  self-respect,  and,  although 
compelled  to  surrender  the  hope  of  separate  political  existence 
and  the  dream  of  a  "new  nation  under  a  new  flag,"  maintained 
control  of  their  own  communities  and  the  direction  of  their 
own  affairs.  Nevertheless,  this  period  of  transition  is  more  re 
markable  because  of  what  was  relinquished  than  because  of 
what  was  kept. 

By  this  I  do  not  mean  to  call  attention,  at  least  as  matters  of 
immediate  discussion,  to  the  emancipation  of  the  slaves  and  the 
immense  destruction  of  tangible  property  from  which  the  South 
suffered  such  vast  material  loss.  These  topics  are  naturally 
suggested  by  any  reference  to  the  Civil  War  and  its  consequences, 
and  I  have  partially  treated  them  in  a  previous  chapter.  The 
positive  injury,  the  havoc  and  disturbance  so  occasioned  were  in 
cidents  of  the  war  period,  not  of  that  of  which  I  am  now  writing, 
and  require  mention  in  this  connection  only  in  so  far  as,  in  con 
junction  with  other  causes,  they  affected  the  future  life  of  the 
people  and  gave  it  another  impulse  and  direction. 

In  a  country  where  there  had    been    many  wealthy    men, 

459 


46o  REMINISCENCES  OF 

according  to  the  standards  by  which  wealth  was  then  estimated, 
but  where,  also,  wealth  had  been  pretty  equally  distributed,  a 
sudden  and  almost  total  ruin  of  all  upon  which  that  prosperity 
was  founded  wrought,  of  course,  a  corresponding  alteration  in  the 
mode  of  living,  and  made  it  much  harder  for  very  many  to 
obtain  a  living.  The  general  distress  and  impoverishment  of  all 
classes  left  no  hope  nor  scope  for  a  distinctly  idle  class.  The 
gentleman  of  elegant  leisure  might  continue  to  pursue  his  vo 
cation  if  he  so  chose.  There  was  no  danger  that  he  would  die 
in  the  poor-house,  because  there  were  no  funds  available  for  the 
maintenance  of  poor-houses,  but  there  was  great  danger  that  he 
might  die  of  inanition.  The  gentleman  who  only  a  few  years 
previously  had  been  wont  to  boast  that  he  "had  never  earned 
a  cent  in  his  life  and  had  never  tried"  found  the  outlook 
extremely  discouraging. 

Butthere  were  not  many  who  were  really  and  incorrigibly  idlers; 
much  the  larger  number  were  more  than  anxious  to  be  employed. 
For  the  great  multitude,  however,  of  the  youth  and  men  of  mid 
dle  age  in  the  South  who  had  been  reared  in  ease  and  the  expec 
tation  of  comparative  affluence,  and  yet  were  capable,  energetic, 
and  desirious  of  doing  good  work  for  themselves  and  the  com 
munities  in  which  they  lived,  there  was  an  almost  entire  lack 
of  opportunity.  In  nearly  every  instance,  the  young  man  reared 
to  be  a  planter  was  unable  to  refit  and  restock  his  devastated 
plantation  or  find  means  to  work  it.  It  was  practically  impossible 
to  get  a  job  as  an  assistant  or  overseer  with  some  friend  or  kins 
man,  who  might  be  better  provided,  because,  when  the  negroes 
were  freed,  the  overseers  were  virtually  put  out  of  commission. 
It  was  not  especially  easy  to  get  work,  at  one  time,  even  as  a 
farm  labourer.  To  procure  industrial  employment  was  even 
more  difficult.  As  little  encouragement  was  offered  in  the  learned 
professions;  for,  when  nobody  had  money,  lawyers  and  doctors 
could  scarcely  expect  remunerative  fees. 

The  conditions  were  better  and  more  promising  in  the  cities 
and  larger  towns  of  the  South,  where  a  certain  commercial  pros- 
perity  still  obtained,  and  to  these  many  of  the  younger  men  re 
sorted  in  hope  to  find  profitable  occupation  or  at  least  a  liveli 
hood.  A  host  from  all  parts  of  the  South  flocked  to  New  Orleans. 
There  were  living  in  that  city,  between  the  years  of  1865  and  1870, 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  461 

almost  as  many  ex-Southern  soldiers  bearing  the  title  of  "general" 
as  there  are  to-day  in  the  ranks  of  the  "United  Confederate 


Veterans. >: 


A  multitude,  also,  went  upon  the  same  mission  to  the  cities 
of  the  border,  St.  Louis,  Louisville,  and  Cincinnati,  and  not  a 
few  continued  their  flight  as  far  north  as  New  York.  Quite  a 
number  remained  permanently  and  were  successful  in  their 
adopted  abodes,  but  the  majority  returned,  with  the  returning 
prosperity  of  the  South,  to  their  early  homes. 

Not  only  was  there  a  general  decline  in  values,  disorganization 
of  business,  and  stagnation  of  industry  throughout  all  the  sub 
jugated  region,  but  the  lack  of  competent  labour,  as  well  as  of 
money,  intensified  all  else  that  was  unfortunate  and  made  the 
situation  almost  desperate.  The  South,  before  the  war,  had  been 
distinctly  an  agricultural  country;  that  interest  greatly  predomi 
nated  all  others  in  every  community.  For  many  years  after  the 
war,  much  the  larger  proportion  of  the  population  depended  upon 
agriculture  as  a  means  of  support.  The  labour  employed  for  the 
cultivation  of  the  cereals,  as  well  as  the  cotton,  sugar,  and  to 
bacco  crops,  was  chiefly  negro  labour.  It  was  not  habitual  for 
white  men,  with  the  exception  of  the  small  farmers  who  tilled 
comparatively  scanty  acreage,  to  work  in  the  fields.  But  the 
demoralization  of  the  negro  as  a  labourer  began  with  his  en 
franchisement,  and  was  completed  by  his  introduction  into  poli 
tics.  It  is  to  be  doubted  whether,  even  if  the  negroes  had  re 
mained  in  slavery  and  could  have  been  compelled  to  stay  upon 
the  plantations,  they  could  for  many  years  at  least  have 
been  employed  as  profitably  and  as  numerously  as  in  the  ante 
bellum  days,  for  the  reason  that  the  planters  were  otherwise  so 
straightened,  so  lacking  in  facilities,  that  it  might  not  have  been 
possible  to  keep  them  all  employed.  It  must  also  be  considered 
that  men  —  white  or  black  —  who  have  been  trained  under  one 
system  do  not  readily  adapt  themselves  to  another. 

But  at  this  date,  the  negro,  intoxicated  with  sudden  freedom 
and  excited  by  strange  hopes,  had  little  desire  to  do  any  work  at 
all,  even  the  most  necessary,  and  his  labour  was  no  longer 
reliable. 

During  all  this  period  and  until  the  beginning  of  the  adminis 
tration  of  Mr.  Hayes,  the  Southern  people  were  treated  as  it 


462  REMINISCENCES  OF 

still  in  rebellion,  and,  however  honestly  inclined  they  might  be 
to  obey  the  National  authority,  were  made  to  appear  in  the 
attitude  of  resisting  it.  Emphatic  and  resolute  protest  against 
acts  of  glaring  maladministration  and  injustice  was  regarded 
as  convincing  evidence  of  a  disloyal  spirit.  Opposition  to  ap 
propriations  made  by  legislatures  filled  with  ignorant  negroes 
and  white  thieves  —  made  for  manifestly  dishonest  purposes 
and  to  be  provided  for  by  ruinous  taxation  —  was  denounced 
as  the  recalcitrance  of  men  not  yet  reconciled  to  the  Union  and 
the  flag.  How  the  people  who  put  forth  such  heroic  effort 
to  preserve  the  Union  and  defend  that  flag,  could  have  per 
mitted  such  a  "Walpurgis  dance  of  political  witches,"  is 
one  of  the  mysteries  of  history  which  remains  for  Northern 
writers  to  explain. 

It  is  a  matter  for  wonder  that  the  Southern  people  were  not 
driven  by  such  an  experience,  coming  in  the  hour  of  sore  material 
distress  and  before  the  passions  aroused  by  the  war  had  time  to 
cool,  into  inveterate  resentment  and  rancour  —  something  like 
that  which  the  Irish  have  felt  toward  the  English.  It  is  for 
tunate  that  the  good  sense,  for  which  they  have  not  always  been 
credited,  preserved  them  from  such  error. 

But,  in  real  truth,  the  people  of  the  South,  although  deter 
mined  to  maintain  the  autonomy  of  their  states,  had  utterly 
abandoned  the  hopes  and  purposes  with  which  they  had  at 
tempted  secession.  They  had  in  no  sense  "repented"  of  such 
action.  They  did  not  believe  that  their  effort  to  establish  the 
Confederacy  had  been  culpable,  but  they  fully  realized  their 
failure  and  the  futility  of  any  such  attempt  for  the  future.  While 
there  was,  of  course,  bitter  disappointment,  they  were  willing,  in 
the  phrase  of  the  time,  to  accept  the  situation  in  good  faith  and 
without  reservation.  I  am  firmly  convinced  that  all  the  time  the 
South  was  being  so  harassed  there  were  not  five  hundred  men  liv 
ing  within  her  borders  who  entertained  any  real  desire  to  renew 
the  contest,  or  who,  in  their  saner  moments,  would  not  have 
deemed  such  a  wish  criminal  as  well  as  absurd.  Even  then  the 
Southern  people  did  not  for  an  instant  contemplate  resistance 
to  the  Federal  authority.  They  were  trying  to  get  back  into  the 
Union,  and  while  they  may  not,  just  then,  have  loved  it  very 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  463 

dearly,  they  recognized  the  obligations  it  imposed,  and  were  in 
clined  to  return  to  their  former  allegiance.  I  do  not  mean  to 
say  that  it  was  a  matter  of  sentiment,  for,  of  course,  it  was  not. 
They  wished  to  do  the  best  thing  they  could  under  the  circum 
stances,  to  accommodate  themselves  to  the  new  and  inevitable 
regime  and  make  the  best  of  a  bad  situation.  But  they  were 
open,  honest,  and  sincere  in  their  action. 

There  was  one  feature  of  the  situation  which  ought  not  to 
be  overlooked  because  it  unquestionably  exerted  a  very  consid 
erable  influence  for  good.  With  the  influx  into  the  South  of  the 
carpet-baggers  and  political  adventurers,  there  had  also  come  a 
considerable  number  of  Northern  born  men  of  very  different 
character  —  many  of  them  former  Federal  soldiers  —  who  mi 
grated  there  with  another  purpose.  These  men  came  to  locate 
permanently  and  cast  in  their  lot  with  the  native  population. 
Without  in  anywise  surrendering  their  political  opinions,  they 
manfully  stood  by  the  Southern  whites.  The  assistance  which 
they  had  rendered  in  the  reconstruction  controversies  cannot  be 
overestimated;  and  the  example  they  gave,  and  the  work  done 
by  them  in  the  social  and  industrial  transformation  which  was 
later  in  progress,  were  of  scarcely  less  value. 

The  general  effect  of  all  the  various  forces,  busy  in  the  South 
from  the  date  of  the  fall  of  the  Confederacy  until  the  virtual 
cessation  of  the  political  troubles,  was,  it  might  be  said,  to  make 
of  the  people  of  the  South  another  and  a  different  people. 

The  altered  social  and  material  conditions  necessarily  produced 
a  certain  change  in  the  people  themselves,  in  their  habits,  and 
in  their  thought.  Clinging  still  to  their  traditions,  they  largely 
gave  up  old  customs,  adopted  new  methods,  and  entertained 
other  views  and  aspirations. 

The  old  plantation  life,  with  its  numerous  retinue  and  profuse 
management,  had  passed  away.  The  previous  commercial  and 
mercantile  modes  of  transacting  business,  chiefly  in  conformity 
with  the  plantation  demands,  had  undergone  a  corresponding 
change.  All  the  avenues  to  success  or  promotion  were  either 
painfully  blocked  or  ran  in  other  directions  than  they  had  for 
merly  pointed.  The  Southern  cadet,  of  distinguished  family, 
who  could  once  have  confidently  relied  upon  public  preferment, 
found  himself  no  longer  a  political  pet  to  be  always  supplied 


464  REMINISCENCES  OF 

from  the   public  patronage,  but  a  political    pariah   denied  all 
official  recognition. 

All  around  the  circle  the  old  order  was  giving  place  unto  the 
new,  and  something  had  to  be  done.  To  compare  great  things 
with  small,  the  situation  was  like  the  case  of  Capt.  John  Daviess, 
.of  Harrodsburg,  Ky.,  brother  of  the  famous  Joe  Daviess, 
who  prosecuted  Aaron  Burr.  The  captain  had  been  a  successful 
candidate  many  times,  but  after  a  signal  defeat  abandoned  the 
political  field. 

"Captain,"  asked  a  friend,  who  was  curious  to  know  the  reason 
of  it,  "why  have  you  quit  politics?"  "I  have  quit,"  responded 
the  captain,  "because,  although  I  was  a  popular  favourite  for 
many  years,,  I  have  recently  discovered  that  I  have  become  not 
only  unpopular  but  positively  d  —  d  odious,  so  I  think  it  better 
to  turn  my  attention  to  something  else." 

Some  years  elapsed  before  this  substantially  new  direction  in 
Southern  thought  and  purpose  was  apparent  in  external  or  super 
ficial  evidence.  Notwithstanding  the  resolute  efforts  to  repair 
the  terrible  devastation  of  the  war,  there  was  little  in  the  aspect 
of  either  rural  or  urban  community  to  indicate  its  success  until 
the  era  of  industrial  activity  set  in  —  until  the  resources  of  the 
South  began  to  be  developed  in  earnest  and  by  her  own  people. 
Then  indeed,  it  seemed  as  if  a  "new  nation,"  although  in  another 
sense  than  that  in  which  the  term  had  been  meant  in  1861,  had 
been  born  into  the  world. 

It  should  be  borne  in  mind  when  considering  any  period  of 
Southern  history  that  her  people  have  been  in  large  measure  more 
distinctly  homogeneous,  composed,  at  least,  more  largely  of  the 
white  stocks  which  originally  settled  this  country,  and  with  less 
admixture  of  purely  foreign  element,  than  the  population  of 
any  other  territory  of  equal  extent  included  at  any  time  within 
the  limits  of  the  United  States.  They  have  consequently  been 
more  thoroughly  and  continuously  than  any  other  under  the  in 
fluence  of  —  what  I  may  designate  for  lack  of  some  more  appro 
priate  term  —  a  native  sentiment  and  habit  of  thought,  more 
closely  attached  to  the  soil  .and  its  associations,  cherishing  a 
stronger  sympathy  with  the  past.  While  it  has  been  the  fashion, 
in  some  quarters,  to  speak  of  a  certain  feeling  they  have  some 
times  displayed  and  somethings  theyhave  done  as  "un-American," 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  46$ 

they  have  been  in  many  respects  more  " American"  than  all  the 
rest  of  the  people  on  the  continent  together. 

Although  this  feeling,  unduly  stimulated  by  a  mistaken  view 
of  sectional  interest,  had  impelled  them  to  strife,  it  had  also  much 
to  do  with  causing  them  to  endure  defeat  less  sullenly  and  more 
hopefully.  I  think  it  was  this  feeling,  unconsciously  opera 
ting,  which  more  than  anything  else  helped  them  to  deal  suc 
cessfully  with  the  novel  conditions,  at  first  as  irksome  as 
they  were  unfamiliar. 

It  will  be  remembered  by  those  who  "were  there,"  that  im 
mediately  after  the  general  and  final  surrender  there  was  much 
talk  of  expatriation.  A  multitude  of  Confederate  soldiers  spoke 
of  seeking  in  some  other  country  the  liberty  they  believed  would 
be  denied  them  in  their  own.  I  think  that  those  who  talked  that 
way  really  meant  at  the  time  what  they  said.  Gen.  Jubal  A.  Early 
told  me  that  he  had  greatly  desired  to  head  a  considerable 
exodus  of  Confederate  families  to  New  Zealand.  I  suppose  that 
the  indomitable  old  fighter,  when  he  could  no  longer  live  under 
the  Southern  flag,  wished,  as  the  next  best  thing,  to  die  under  the 
Southern  cross.  A  great  number  wished  to  go  to  Mexico.  Un 
willing  to  remain  under  Yankee  rule,  they  preferred  the  benefi 
cent  government  of  Maximilian.  Of  course,  they  could  not 
then  know  that  Maximilian  would  be  able  to  retain  neither  his 
government  nor  his  life. 

General  Early  encountered  one  insuperable  difficulty  in  the 
way  of  his  scheme.  No  one  was  willing  to  go  so  far,  and  not  a 
colonist  enlisted.  A  good  many  did  go  to  Mexico,  but,  in  a 
brief  time,  nearly  every  one  came  back.  There  was  quite  an  inter 
change  of  population  within  Southern  territory,  but-  com 
paratively  few  left  the  South  except  to  settle  somewhere  else  in 
the  United  States. 

Whether  the  Southern  women  had  or  had  not  much  to  do  with 
keeping  the  Southern  men  at  home,  I  do  not  know.  I  think  they 
had.  I  am  quite  sure,  at  any  rate,  that  if  the  women  had  wished 
to  leave  they  would  have  done  so,  and  that  the  men  would  have 
followed.  But  it  is  certain  that  they  had  a  great  de,al  to  do  — • 
and  for  good  —  with  all  that  transpired  in  the  South  in  those 
days  of  trial  and  tribulation;  and  that  the  men  of  the  South  gained 
from  them  strength,  as  well  as  comfort  and  consolation. 


466  REMINISCENCES  OF 

So  much  has  been  said  and  written  about  the  conduct  of  the 
Southern  women  during  the  war  that  any  mention  of  it,  especially 
any  laudation,  now  seems  trite  and  superfluous;  yet  it  is  a  theme 
on  which  it  is  impossible  to  be  silent  and  difficult  not  to  enlarge. 

The  battles  of  the  South  were  fought  by  soldiers  furnished  al 
most  entirely  from  her  own  population.  At  any  rate,  there  were 
so  few  others  that,  save  for  their  courage  and  generous  devotion, 
they  need  not  be  considered.  There  was  scarcely  a  family  in 
the  South  which  had  not  its  representative  in  the  Confederate 
army;  many  had  more  than  one;  some  sent  its  every  male  mem 
ber  into  the  ranks.  There  was  not  a  woman  in  the  South,  there 
fore,  who  did  not  have  a  father,  husband,  son  or  brother,  or  some 
relative  in  the  field.  It  has  been  said  that  regard  for  the  opinion 
of  the  women  compelled  many  men  to  enlist  who  would  have 
preferred  not  to  do  so.  However  that  may  be,  it  cannot  be 
denied  that,  like  Bedford  Forrest,  the  Southern  women  had  "No 
self-respect  for  an  able-bodied  young  man  who  wasn't  in  the  army. " 

Moreover,  these  women  were  themselves  in  the  thick  of  the 
strife,  and  personally  witnessed  and  suffered  its  calamities. 
They  were  constantly  reminded  by  what  they  saw  every  day  of 
the  danger  which  threatened  those  they  loved  most  dearly.  The 
full,  horrible  realization  was  always  with  them,  with  never  any 
actual  relief  from  its  monotonous  misery. 

I  have  seen,  amid  the  hottest  street  fighting,  one  of  the  ghast 
liest  forms  of  combat,  women  come  out  of  the  houses  to  succour 
the  wounded.  I  have  seen  women  tenderly  nursing  dying 
strangers  with  all  the  solicitude  they  could  have  given  their 
nearest  and  dearest,  when  they  knew  that  in  some  distant  spot 
a  son  or  husband  needed  like  care.  I  have  seen  them  in  their 
lonely  homes,  whence  the  husband  had  gone  to  battle  along  the 
Cumberland  or  Potomac,  striving  patiently  to  keep  privation 
from  the  door  and  provide  clothing  for  the  children;  and  I  have 
often  seen  them  offer  from  their  meagre  stores  food  to  the  hungry 
soldier,  when  they  knew  that  the  gift  meant  a  yet  shorter  ration 
for  themselves  and  the  children.  They  bore  with  equally  heroic 
fortitude  the  tests  of  the  later  ordeal,  when  it  seemed  as  if  worse 
horrors  than  those  of  the  war  might  be  their  portion;  and  the 
best  hope,  the  wisest  counsel  the  men  received  was  at  the 
domestic  hearth. 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  467 

The  Federal  soldiers  have  often  declared  that  after  they  had 
succeeded  by  a  considerable  expenditure  of  blood,  time,  and 
treasure  in  overcoming  the  men  of  the  South,  they  found  the 
women  still  unconquered;  and  the  Southern  man  —  especially 
the  Southern  husband  —  realizes  with  pride,  and  a  certain 
wholesome,  almost  timid,  respect,  that  the  Southern  woman 
never  has  been  and  never  can  be  subdued. 

Nor  are  the  hearts  of  these  women  even  now  less  warm,  nor 
has  their  labour  relaxed  in  patriotic  endeavour.  The  work  done 
by  the  Daughters  of  the  Confederacy  in  recent  years  is  one 
scarcely  as  yet  to  be  fully  appreciated,  and,  perhaps,  never  to  be 
rivalled.  They  have  inaugurated  and  conducted  to  successful 
termination,  or  largely  aided  in  so  doing,  every  enterprise  in 
which  sympathy  has  been  enlisted  to  render  relief  and  charity 
to  suffering  incurred  by  service  to  the  South  or  to  commemorate 
the  Confederate  cause.  They  have  done  much  to  preserve  the 
true  history  of  the  struggle  and  induce  a  just  understanding  of 
Southern  motives  and  action;  but  in  any  such  memorial  record 
the  best  and  brightest  chapter  must  be  given  them. 

The  South  evinced  an  inclination,  shortly  after  the  close  of 
the  war,  to  follow  the  example  of  the  North  and  the  rest  of  the 
civilized  world  in  suppressing,  or,  at  least,  in  discountenancing, 
duelling;  and  it  is  somewhat  remarkable  that  it  should  have 
become  manifest  just  when  it  did.  There  were  few  duels  fought 
during  the  war,  and  I  can  recall  only  one  which  resulted  fatally. 
Only  three  I  believe  have  been  fought  in  Kentucky  in  post 
bellum  times,  all  between  the  years  of  1865-70.  They  were  much 
less  frequent  elsewhere  in  the  South  after  the  war  than  previously, 
for  then  duelling  had  been  almost  universally  prevalent  there. 
It  is  not  a  matter  of  wonder  that  few  duels  occurred  during  the 
war  time,  for  when  so  much  other  fighting — entirely  "  legitimate " 
—  was  going  on,  this  mode  of  combat  was  regarded  as  irregular 
and  not  in  "good  form."  But  it  may  well  create  some  surprise 
to  note  that  just  afterward,  when  such  strong  feeling  was  rife 
and  there  were  so  many  animosities  yet  unallayed,  it  should  have 
so  suddenly  gone  out  of  vogue. 

Duelling,  I  believe,  still  prevails  in  some  parts  of  Europe,  but 
rather  as  a  pastime  or  game  of  skill,  although  not  so  dangerous 
as  football,  than  with  any  idea  of  fatal  termination.  It  would 


468  REMINISCENCES  OF 

seem  that  care  and  pains  are  always  taken  to  eliminate  from  the 
European  duel  any  chance  of  homicide.  But  the  Southern 
duel,  and,  indeed,  the  American  duel,  wherever  and  whenever 
fought,  was  conducted  upon  a  totally  different  theory  —  and, 
it  seems  to  me,  the  correct  one.  For  if  men  have  real  reason 
to  fight,  and  deliberately  go  out  to  fight,  it  is  surely  logical  that 
each  should  try  to  kill.  While  often,  of  course,  a  matter  of 
congratulation,  it  is  hard  to  conceive  of  a  more  absurd  anomaly 
than  the  "bloodless"  duel. 

Even  so  far  back  as  1852  an  effort  was  made  to  put  a  stop  to 
duelling  in  Kentucky  by  constitutional  provision,  to  be  enforced 
by  appropriate  legislation.  It  was  provided  that  any  citizen 
of  Kentucky,  who,  after  the  adoption  of  that  constitution,  should 
fight  a  duel  with  deadly  weapons  within  the  limits  of  the  state, 
or  send  or  receive  a  challenge  to  fight  a  duel,  should,  upon  con 
viction,  be  disqualified  from  voting  and  holding  office  in  the 
commonwealth,  and,  if  a  lawyer,  should  be  disqualified  from 
practising  his  profession.  It  was  further  provided  that  the 
governor  should  have  no  power  to  pardon  in  such  cases,  until 
five  years  had  elapsed  after  the  commission  of  the  offence.  If  the 
duel  should  be  fought  with,  or  the  challenge  sent  to  or  received 
from,  another  citizen  of  Kentucky,  the  penalty  for  the  offence 
was  the  same,  although  it  might  be  committed  outside  of  the  state. 

When  it  is  understood  that  the  chiefest  pleasure  and  most 
inestimable  privilege  of  the  average  Kentuckian  is  to  seek  and 
hold  office,  and  that,  when  he  cannot  find  anything  else  to  do, 
he  likes  to  try  to  practise  law,  the  ingenuity,  the  refined  cruelty 
—  worthy  of  a  Torquemada  —  of  such  punishment  will  be  ap 
preciated.  Furthermore,  inasmuch  as  a  Kentuckian  after 
committing  the  offence  might  yet  escape  indictment,  he  was  re 
quired,  before  being  inducted  into  office  or  admitted  to  practice 
at  any  bar  of  the  state,  to  take  an  oath  that,  since  the  adoption 
of  this  constitution,  he  had  committed  no  such  offence.  The 
diabolical  cunning  of  such  a  contrivance,  intended  to  catch  a 
man  "coming  or  going,"  is  shocking  to  every  humane  mind. 

Notwithstanding  all  this,  however,  duelling  was  not  entirely 
stopped  in  Kentucky,  and  a  number  were  subsequently  fought. 
It  has  been  enacted,  in  a  constitution  adopted  later,  that  the 
penalty  shall  apply  whether  the  duel  occurring  beyond  the  limits 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  469 

of  the  state  be  fought  with  a  citizen  of  Kentucky  or  with  some  one 
from  the  world  outside.  Consequently  the  only  terms  on  which 
a  Kentuckian  can  now  constitutionally  enjoy  a  duel  is  by  tem 
porarily  renouncing  citizenship  and  ceasing  to  be  a  Kentuckian 
until  the  affair  is  concluded. 

By  a  strange  partiality,  the  doctors  —  doctors  of  medicine,  I 
mean —  although  a  much  more  belligerent  class  than  the  lawyers, 
were  relieved  of  that  part  of  the  penalty,  inflicted  upon  the  law 
yers,  which  inhibited  practise  of  their  profession.  Such  a  dis 
tinction  seems  strangely  to  resemble  class  legislation,  but,  being, 
constitutional  instead  of  statutory,  the  question,  unfortunately 
could  never  be  raised.  It  has  been  suggested  with  some  force 
—  although  I  admit  the  suggestion  seems  a  little  strained  —  that 
this  omission  in  favour  of  members  of  the  medical  fraternity  was 
done  advisedly,  and  with  the  hope  that  it  might  induce  them 
to  indulge  their  homicidal  inclinations  at  the  expense  of  other 
doctors,  rather  than  of  their  patients. 

I  have  always  doubted  the  wisdom  of  these  drastic  provisions 
against  duelling  —  at  any  rate,  of  visiting  it  with  exceptional 
penalties  at  a  time  when  the  population  for  which  they  were  in 
tended  was  so  generally  pugnacious,  and  the  disposition  for 
,  personal  combat,  if  prohibited  in  one  way,  was  apt  to  find  another. 
Had  the  habitual  carrying  of  concealed  deadly  weapons,  street 
fights,  and  sudden  affrays  in  which  weapons  are  used  been  also 
and  equally  penalized,  the  effect  I  think  would  have  been  more 
wholesome.  If  men  must  engage  in  personal  combat,  the  duel 
is  unquestionably  the  most  preferable  -method. 

It  is  certainly  the  fairest.  It  has  often  been  said,  and  with 
some  justice,  that  if  duelling  be  tacitly  permitted,  certain  men 
will  make  themselves  skilful  in  the  use  of  weapons  and  pick 
quarrels  with  others  who  are  not  in  such  respect  their  equals. 
But  the  same  thing  may  be  said  with  greater  force  of  the  "street 
fight."  The  coward,  the  bully,  and  the  would-be  murderer 
can  find  infinitely  more  advantage  and  impunity  in  that  method 
than  in  the  duel.  In  the  duel  the  parties  face  each  other  with 
similar  weapons  and  fire  at  a  given  signal.  The  best  shot  may 
fail  of  his  aim;  the  combatant  of  inferior  skill  has,  at  least,  a 
chance.  Sometimes  men  meet  in  a  street  fight  by  appointment 
and  equally  armed.  Then  it  is,  in  all  save  formalities,  a  duel; 


470  REMINISCENCES  OF 

but  with  the  indecency  of  being  a  public  performance,  and  the 
danger  to  the  "innocent  by-stander. "  In  the  majority  of  cases, 
however,  the  street  fight  is  only  a  covert  form  of  assassination, 
in  which  the  assailant  has  in  advance  planned  how  to  kill  his 
victim  with  no  peril  to  himself,  and  has  already  formulated  his 
plea  of  "self-defence." 

There  is,  also,  always  excellent  opportunity  in  quarrels,  which 
the  principals  wish  to  settle  by  a  duel,  to  compose  them  amicably. 
The  seconds  almost  invariably  strive  to  do  this,  and  if  the 
hostile  feeling  has  arisen  only  out  of  a  misunderstanding,  or 
unless  the  principals  are  incorrigibly  unreasonable,  usually  suc 
ceed.  When  the  other  method  is  contemplated  there  is  little 
opportunity  for  peaceable  adjustment,  because  the  parties  seldom 
declare  their  intentions  and  cannot  be  advised. 

I  shall  never  forget  the  last  occasion  when  I  was  consulted  in 
what  might  have  become  "an  affair  of  honour,"  because  of  its 
extremely  amusing  features.  It  reminded  me,  but  in  a  ludi 
crous  fashion,  of  the  preliminary  correspondence  between 
the  belligerents,  of  the  fine  points  raised  and  nice  distinctions 
taken  in  the  "good  old  times"  when  the  duel  was  earnest  and 
real,  and  still  in  order  even  in  the  days  of  its  "innocuous 
desuetude." 

It  occurred  at  the  Capitol  Hotel  in  Frankfort,  some  twenty 
or  more  years  ago.  A  number  of  the  citizens  of  the  town  were 
assembled  one  evening  to  discuss  some  matter  of  local  interest. 
The  debate  became  quite  warm,  especially  between  two  of  the 
disputants.  One  of  these  gentlemen,  a  tall,  dignified  official  —  a 
man  of  undoubted  courage,  but  amiable  and  usually  discreet  — 
finally,  in  a  moment  of  unaccustomed  asperity,  said  in  response 
to  an  exceedingly  emphatic  statement  made  by  the  other:  "Sir, 
you  are  egregiously  mistaken." 

The  other  was  a  champion  of  small  stature  but  colossal  spirit  — 
a  Tydeus,  "whose  little  body  held  a  mighty  soul."  The  very 
pink  of  chivalry  and  courtesy  in  his  ordinary  mood,  his  temper, 
when  excited,  was  of  a  fiery  flavour  compared  with  which  tobasco 
sauce  is  as  mild  as  mother's  milk.  He  immediately  sprang  to 
his  feet  and  rushed  at  his  opponent  to  strike  him.  He  was  with 
difficulty  and  only  by  superior  force  prevented  from  doing  so. 

He  promptly  came  to  my  room,  narrated  what  had  occurred, 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  471 

and  requested  me  to  carry  his  challenge  to  the  offender.  For 
many  reasons  I  was  averse  to  taking  any  part  in  an  affair  of  that 
nature;  and  even  when  the  duel  had  been  most  popular,  an 
adviser  who  would  not  have  counselled  his  friend  that  the 
provocation  in  a  case  like  this  was  too  slight  to  justify  a  chal 
lenge,  would  have  been  strongly  censured.  I  told  him  so  but 
he  answered  hotly,  "I  have  a  right  to  challenge  any  man  who 
calls  me  a  liar." 

"Why,"  I  said,  "according  to  your  own  story,  he  simply  told 
you  that  you  were  mistaken. " 

"That  is  the  language  he  used,  but  considering  the  circum 
stances  and  the  manner  in  which  he  said  it,  it  was  equivalent  to 
giving  me  the  lie. " 

In  the  meantime  four  or  five  other  gentlemen  had  dropped  in, 
and  with  that  easy  freedom  and  total  absence  of  formality  which 
is  nowhere  so  charming  as  in  Kentucky,  took  part  in  the  dis 
cussion;  but  all  agreed  with  me  and  counselled  peace. 

The  aggrieved  party,  however,  was  not  convinced  and  stoutly 
maintained  his  position.  But  fortunately  one  of  the  gentlemen 
who  had  joined  us  was,  in  addition  to  extensive  and  useful  infor 
mation  on  other  topics,  an  authority  on  the  code.  He  had 
participated  in  more  than  one  duel,  both  as  principal  and  second, 
and  what  he  didn't  know  about  the  subject  could  have  been 
written  on  a  postage  stamp.  At  length  he  spoke,  and  all  turned 
to  him  as  to  an  oracle.  We  all  knew  that  what  he  said  would 
"go,"  but  we  could  no  more  divine  in  the  impenetrable  gravity 
of  his  visage,  what  he  was  about  to  say,  than  you  can  see  the  sugar 
which  has  been  dissolved  in  your  julep. 

"I  disagree  with  General  Duke,"  he  said.  "I  think  Louis  is 
right  in  holding  that  when,  under  the  circumstances,  he  was 
accused  of  being  mistaken  it  was  tantamount  to  calling  him 
a  liar." 

Louis  glowed  with  satisfaction;  one  might  have  supposed 
that  he  thought  no  happiness  in  life  was  equal  to  that  of  being 
called  a  liar. 

"But,"  the  oracle  proceeded,  "he  has  put  it  out  of  his  power 
to  challenge  in  this  affair." 

"What,"  shouted  the  irate  little  game-cock,  "can't  I  challenge 
a  man  who  calls  me  a  liar?" 


472  REMINISCENCES  OF 

"Not  in  this  case  after  what  you  have  already  done.  The  Irish 
code  and  the  Virginia  code  —  the  best  authorities  —  while  they 
vary  in  some  small  particulars,  agree  upon  all  material  points, 
and  each  specifically  declares  that  there  are  two  modes  of  pro 
cedure  open  to  a  gentleman  when  he  has  received  the  lie.  He 
may  respond  to  the  insult  promptly  with  a  blow,  or  he  may  send 
a  challenge.  But  having  elected  to  take  either  course,  he  is 
estopped  from  pursuing  the  other.  You  elected  to  strike,  there 
fore  you  may  not  challenge." 

"But  I  didn't  strike  him.     I  was  prevented  from  striking." 

"  Louis,  I  regret  to  see  you  take  refuge  in  a  sophism  unworthy 
of  you.  A  gentleman  is  always  considered  to  have  done  that 
which  he  has  meant  and  tried  to  do.  He  constructively  gave 
you  the  lie;  you  constructively  struck  him.  He  may  challenge; 
you  cannot." 

"But,  d  —  n  it,  Sam,  he  won't  challenge." 

"Very  well  then"  said  Sam,  "that's  the  end  of  the  matter." 

I  was  for  a  moment  almost  stricken  dumb  with  admiration 
by  this  amazingly  able  and  absolutely  conclusive  exposition.  So 
soon  as  I  recovered  my  breath,  I  declared  that  I  had  been  en 
deavouring  to  say  that  very  thing  all  the  time;  and  so  said  all  the 
others.  So  it  went  at  that. 

•  The  charge,  once  made  so  freely  and  often  heard  now,  that 
there  is  less  respect  for  law  in  the  South  than  elsewhere  in  the 
United  States,  is  I  think,  based  upon  shallow  observation  and 
very  partial,  if  not  imperfect,  reasoning.  I  might,  perhaps, 
appeal  successfully  to  the  statistics  of  crime  committed  in  this 
country  to  refute  it  and  show  its  fallacy;  but  that  is  not  the  sort 
of  evidence  which  should  be  considered  in  a  discussion  of  this 
nature.  Criminal  classes  exist  everywhere,  and  a  certain  demon 
stration  from  them  is  to  be  everywhere  expected.  More  is  to 
be  reasonably  expected  in  a  densely  than  a  sparsely  populated 
community;  and  it  is  scarcely  possible  to  determine  to  what  ex 
tent  a  latent  criminal  tendency  may  be  developed,  in  the  former, 
into  active  operation  by  suggestion  and  opportunity. 

Nor  do  I  claim  that  a  people  should  be  exonerated  from  this 
accusation  because  they  may  be  able  to  offer  more  in  the  way  of 
excuse  and  provocation  —  valid  or  plausible  —  for  the  par 
ticular  violations  of  law  with  which  they  stand  charged.  The 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  473 

justest  method,  perhaps,  by  which  such  a  question  may  be  de* 
termined,  is  to  ascertain,  as  well  as  can  be  done,  how  far  each 
community  honestly  desires  and  tries  to  suppress  and  punish,  upon 
procurable  proof,  the  special,  the  particular  offences  against 
law  which  its  population  is  most  prone  to  commit. 

Yet,  making  the  concession,  which  is,  perhaps,  hardly  fair  to 
the  South,  that  crime,  in  its  general  sense,  the  crimes  common 
to  human  nature  and  perpetrated  the  world  over,  and  the  terri 
ble  degradation  and  vice  of  the  great  cities  induced  by  grinding 
poverty  —  a  curse  we  trust  God  may  long  spare  the  South  —  shall 
not  be  considered  in  such  discussion,  what  proof  can  be  adduced 
or  reason  given  for  the  assertion  that  "lawlessness"  is  exception 
ally  prevalent  in  the  South?  By  that  term,  as  it  is  usually  em 
ployed,  is  meant  either  organized  and  violent  defiance  of  law, 
open  or  secret,  or  systematic,  dishonest  evasion  of  the  law, 
although  it  may  be  done  under  some  colour  of  legal  form.  In 
neither  acceptation  of  the  term,  can  it  be  justly  applied  as  de 
scriptive  of  a  condition  obtaining  more  generally  in  the  South 
than  elsewhere  in  the  United  States. 

I  am  not  attempting  a  tuquoque  argument,  but  wish  to  avoid 
anything  of  that  nature.  In  sober  truth,  if  we  wish  to  find 
the  cause  of  the  lawlessness  that,  in  some  shape,  is  the  bane  of 
the  whole  country,  we  must  consider  the  influence  of  a  feeling 
which  can  be  discovered  everywhere,  and  would  seem  to  be  an 
outgrowth  of  our  free  institutions.  The  individual  liberty, 
which  is  our  proudest  boast  and  best  possession,  does  not  make, 
absolutely  and  in  all  respects,  for  righteousness.  The  intense 
individualism  bred  here  has  stimulated  the  more  selfish  and 
arrogant  instincts  of  humanity  to  greater  and  wider  activity 
than  would  have  been  possible  under  more  rigorous  discipline. 
America  has  been  aptly  termed  "the  land  of  opportunity," 
but  much  of  it  has  been  the  opportunity  of  the  crank  and  pro 
moter  to  try  every  kind  of  experiment,  whether  brutal,  visionary, 
or  sordid.  We  live  in  an  atmosphere  of  self-seeking  and  self- 
assertion.  Our  national  education  has  always  been  to  "get 
there,"  and  having  done  so,  at  any  cost,  to  stay  there.  The 
average  man  believes  that  a  "square  deal"  is  one  in  which  he  will 
get  all  the  four  sides. 

In    this    almost    universal    habit    of   regarding    each    class, 


474  REMINISCENCES  OF 

business,  or  corporate  interest  as  of  manifest  and  paramount 
importance;  this  general  disposition  to  claim  and  assert  some 
special  privilege  or  immunity,  no  matter  whether  or  not  it  con 
travene  the  law;  and  in  the  utter  intolerance  each  and  all  enter 
tain  of  any  opinion,  public  or  private,  not  in  accordance  with 
their  own,  or  which  would  restrain  them  from  infringement  on  the 
rights  of  other  people  —  in  these  heresies  are  to  be  found, 
I  think,  the  seeds  of  all  the  lawlessness,  of  that  kind  about 
which  we  talk  so  much,  and  which  crops  up  throughout  the 
whole  land. 

In  every  locality  and  instance  in  which  the  lawless  spirit  has 
been  notably  manifested,  it  has  proceeded  upon  the  idea  enter 
tained  by  those  who  exhibit  it,  that  under  certain  conditions  they 
may  properly  get  what  they  wish  by  means  which  the  law  does 
not  provide  or  sometimes  inhibits  —  get  it  in  spite  of  the  law. 
They  persuade  themselves  that  a  number  of  men  having  a  com 
mon  interest,  or  animated  by  a  common  feeling,  can  by  association 
acquire  the  right  to  do  that  which  no  one  of  them  can  right 
fully  do  singly.  The  same  explanation  applies  to  all.  The 
dynamiters  of  the  Colorado  mining  districts,  the  "Molly  Ma- 
guires"  of  Pennsylvania,  the  union  men  of  the  great  cities  who 
knock  non-union  men  in  the  head  because  they  want  to  work 
and  not  to  strike,  the  "white  cappers"  of  Indiana,  the  "night 
riders,"  of  Kentucky  and  Tennessee,  indeed,  the  men  who  any 
where  proclaim  and  act  upon  the  dogma  that  anything  that  they 
may  see  fit  to  do  to  serve  their  own  special  interests  is  something 
with  which  the  law  should  have  no  concern  and  not  interfere,  are 
all  exponents  of  the  same  selfish  and  destructive  creed.  These 
are  the  violent  types;  but  the  plutocratic  monopoly  and 
corporate  aggression  sometimes  attempted,  although  not  to 
the  extent  generally  believed,  are  productive  of  even  more 
evil,  in  that  they  are  not  only  harmful  per  se,  but  furnish 
apology  for  disorder  and  arouse  sympathy,  natural,  however 
mistaken,  for  violence. 

Unquestionably  a  supreme  effort  to  correct  all  this  general 
tendency  to  lawlessness  must  at  some  time  and  in  some  way 
be  made;  but  the  surest  method  of  correction,  by  a  better  national 
understanding  of  justice  and  the  substitution  of  a  higher  standard 
of  social  duty  and  obligation  for  the  unreasonable  and  brutal 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  475 

code  now  prevalent,  will  be  accomplished  none  the  sooner  by 
criticism  of  special  lawless  manifestation  in  some  particular 
community. 

At  some  time,  the  people  of  the  whole  country  will  be  com 
pelled  to  practically  realize  as  well  as  theoretically  acknowledge 
that  if  the  public  peace  and  order  cannot  be  maintained  by  local, 
it  must  be  by  national  authority.  It  will  be  universally  recog 
nized  that  a  government  —  state  or  national  —  must  possess 
and  exercise  powers  commensurate  with  its  duties  and  responsi 
bilities,  and  be  able  to  enforce  all  that  it  may  be  justly  expected 
to  perform.  There  is  little  reason  to  apprehend  that  so  long  as 
the  institutions  we  have  inherited  shall  continue  to  exist,  any 
authority  will  fail  to  respect  the  general  popular  will  or  to  con 
sult  the  best  interests  and  real  welfare  of  the  people.  There  is 
far  greater  danger,  as  experience  has  amply  demonstrated,  that 
the  public  welfare  will  be  injuriously  affected  by  requiring  only 
partial  obedience  to  law  and  relaxing  its  universal  application. 
The  special  statutory  privileges  which  Jefferson  deprecated 
are  less  frequent  and  threaten  the  "  equal  rights  to  all "  not 
nearly  so  much  as  does  the  privilege  to  defy  the  law  usurped  by 
men  who  band  together  under  high-sounding  titles  or,  secretly 
associated,  accomplish  unlawful  ends  by  wrong  and  oppression 
wrought  upon  the  peaceful  community.  A  rigid  suppression  of 
these  practices  has  become  the  most  imperative  (governmental 
duty.  The  day  is  not  distant  when  a  long-suffering  majority 
will  insist  that  the  minority  shall  be  restrained  from  acts  as 
insolent  as  they  are  harmful. 

This  much  needed  reform  may  be  more  difficult  and  come  more 
slowly  in  the  South,  for  the  reason  that  men  there  are  inclined, 
I  think,  to  adhere  more  strongly  to  misconceptions  as  well  as 
convictions.  I  have  never  been  able  to  discover  that  there  is 
much  real,  substantial  difference  between  the  people  of  the  two 
sections,  although  environment  has  made  some. 

If  I  were  required  to  designate  any  particular  quality  or 
characteristic  in  which  the  average  Northern  or  Eastern  man  is 
most  unlike  the  Southern  man,  I  should  say  that  it  consists 
in  the  ability  of  the  one  to  avoid  and  readiness  of  the  other  to 
accept  a  certain  form  of  self-deception. 

The  Northern  man  has,  I  think,  in  many  matters  a  keener 


476  REMINISCENCES  OF 

perception  of  the  practical-  facts  which  underlie  and  ultimately 
control  human  conduct  —  of  what  Carlyle  calls  the  "verities." 
The  Yankee  rarely  lies  to  himself,  the  Southern  man  frequently 
does  so.  A  Yankee  might  sell  a  wooden  ham,  but  he  would 
never  try  to  eat  one.  On  the  other  hand,  a  Southern  man  might 
fabricate  a  "gold  brick,"  with  a  definite  intention  of  putting  it 
upon  the  market,  and  yet  —  if  he  kept  it  a  few  months  —  finally 
persuade  himself  that  it  was  really  the  precious  metal. 

The  various  influences  I  have  endeavoured  briefly  to  indicate, 
and  many  others  which  may  be  surmised,  at  length  wrought 
their  effect,  not  only  in  reconciliation  but  in  restoration.  With 
industrial  development  in  the  South,  and  the  growth  of  a  com 
mercialism  unlike  anything  known  in  its  former  history,  that 
phase  of  sectional  feeling  which  had  once  been  esteemed  a  menace 
to  the  peace  of  the  country  entirely  disappeared.  Community 
of  interest,  similitude  of  occupation,  and  the  general  and  ex 
tended  intercourse  which  modern  commerce  has  demanded  and 
modern  facilities  of  transportation  made  possible,  have  welded 
together  all  parts  of  the  country  and  united  many  populations 
into  really  one  people. 

The  spectacle  so  gratifying  and  so  often  commented  on,  of 
the  Northern  and  Southern  boys  in  the  Spanish-American  war, 
marching  to  battle  under  the  same  flag  and  with  a  common 
sentiment  of  patriotism,  was  merely  an  evidence,  a  demonstration 
of  the  change  of  feeling  that  had  already  taken  place.  The 
youth  of  the  South,  the  men  of  middle  age,  all  who  had  grown  to 
manhood  since  the  close  of  the  Civil  War,  felt  full  fellowship  in 
the  existing  civic  order  and  were  above  all  else  American. 

History  is  constantly  repeating  the  shrewd  saying  of  the  old 
Ommeyad  Caliph  that,  "Men  are  more  like  unto  the  times  in 
which  they  live  than  they  are  to  their  fathers. " 

A  few  "unreconstructed  rebels"  yet  survive;  ancient  stumps 
of  gnarled  and  stubborn  oak  which  "may  break  but  cannot 
bend."  They  have  their  counterparts  among  the  aged  federal 
veterans;  and  the  growls  the  former  emit,  sometimes  on  slight 
provocation,  are  occasionally  echoed  by  a  roar  from  some  Grand 
Army  post  when  a  Confederate  flag  is  returned,  or  it  is  proposed 
to  honour  some  typical  Confederate  hero  with  marks  of  national 
respect.  When  this  feeling  is  genuine,  when  it  is  exhibited  by 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  477 

men  who  really  fought  and  not  by  some  one  merely  simula 
ting  it  with  the  hope  of  obtaining  a  certain  eclat,  it  is  impos 
sible  not  to  respect  it,  and  it  elicits  a  kind  of  sympathy. 
We  recognize  it  as  the  crude,  half-articulate  expression  of 
long-cherished  conviction. 

An  old  veteran  of  the  Army  of  Northern  Virginia  is  credited 
with  having  declared  that  what  he  anticipated  with  most  in 
terest  in  the  next  world,  was  hearing  "What  Jubal  Early  would 
say  when  he  met  Fitz  Lee  wearing  a  Yankee  uniform."  Now 
that  was  wrong;  such  curiosity  is  reprehensible  in  either  Christian 
or  patriot;  yet  we  cannot  avoid  being  impressed  with  its  quaint 
candour  and  apposite,  even  if  untimely,  suggestiveness.  Justly 
understood,  the  caustic  speech  of  the  unreconstructed  Confed 
erate  —  which  sometimes  creates  amusement  and  occasionally 
incurs  censure  —  is  no  more  than  his  unconscious  protest  against 
the  destiny  which  has  torn  him  away  from  surroundings  which  he 
loved  and  to  which  he  was  adapted,  and  stranded  him  in  a  region 
to  which  he  can  never  become  accustomed.  But  he  is  rapidly 
passing;  he  is  not  often  encountered  even  at  Confederate  re 
unions,  and  it  is  not  at  all  probable  that  we  shall  ever  look  upon 
his  like  again. 

Should  any  one,  however,  desire  to  see  him  painted  as  he  really 
was,  it  is  only  necessary  to  read  -a  sketch  written  long  before  the 
"unreconstructed  rebel"  appeared  in  propria  persona,  but  which 
is  as  faithful  a  portraiture  of  him,  in  its  distinctive  features,  as 
if  taken  from  life.  Read  Washington  Irving's  description  of  the 
closing  days  of  Governor  Stuyvesant,  "Peter  the  Headstrong," 
a  man  with  a  great  soul,  which  important  fact  the  somewhat 
undue  levity  of  the  historian  makes  only  the  more  conspicuous. 

After  long  and  valiant  effort  to  defend  the  people  of  his  prov 
ince  against  crafty  foes  who  looked  with  covetous  eyes  on  the 
fair  fields  of  the  New  Netherlands  —  meeting,  with  equal  res 
olution,  war  without  and  sedition  within  —  he  was  at  last 
confronted  with  a  situation  that  even  his  courage  and  con 
stancy  could  not  overcome.  The  English  came  in  overwhelm 
ing  force,  and  wrested  from  the  Dutch  republic  the  territory  over 
which  Peter  had  exercised  arbitrary  but  beneficent  sway.  De 
posed,  yet  with  a  spirit  unsubdued,  he  retired  forever  from  the 
city  whose  name  had  been  changed  from  New  Amsterdam  to 


478  REMINISCENCES  OF 

New  York,  and  would  not  even  gaze  upon  it  for  fear  that  his 
eyes  might  be  offended  by  the  hated  English  flag. 

He  lived  at  his  country  seat,  dispensing  hospitality  and  charity, 
kindly  in  act  but  rough  in  speech,  and  maintaining  still  over  all 
around  him  strict  and  salutary  discipline.  His  only  solace  was 
in  the  remembrance  of  the  successes  his  Dutch  countrymen  had 
achieved  over  the  English;  of  how  Van  Tromp,  with  a  broom  at 
his  mast-head,  had  swept  the  channel  clear  of  their  cruisers;  and 
to  read  of  some  victory  even  yet  won  by  De  Ruyter.  But  one 
day  the  news  came  that  De  Ruyter  had  met  with  crushing  defeat. 
The  shock  was  too  much  for  him;  all  hope  seemed  gone,  and  he 
took  to  his  bed  and  died. 

But  for  many  years  the  old  Dutch  burghers  who  remembered 
him  in  the  prime  and  pride  of  his  stalwart  manhood,  as  they 
sat  pensively  smoking  under  the  shade  trees  in  front  of  their 
dwellings,  would  say  with  moist  eyes  to  sympathetic  vrows, 
"Well  den!  Hard-koppig  Peter  ben  gone  at  last." 

Kentucky,  as  I  have  said,  although  many  of  her  citizens  had 
served  in  the  Southern  armies  and  much  of  her  territory  had  been 
included  within  the  zone  of  actual  warfare,  had  sustained  less 
injury  from  it  than  had  been  inflicted  on  the  seceding  states, 
and  had  altogether  escaped  the  subsequent  evils  from  which 
they  had  suffered  so  severely  in  the  years  immediately  succeeding. 
Because  of  this,  and  because  also  of  the  fact  that  so  many  near 
relatives  had  fought  in  opposing  ranks  —  in  many  instances, 
brother  having  stood  against  brother,  and  even  father  against 
son  — less  rancour  characterized  the  division  of  political  sentiment 
in  Kentucky,  and  a  stronger  disposition  for  reconciliation  prevailed. 

Moreover,  the  emancipation  of  the  slaves  and  the  horrible 
atrocities  perpetrated  by  two  federal  generals  —  Burbridge  and 
Paine,  the  former  a  native  Kentuckian  —  who,  under  guise  of 
military  execution,  murdered  nearly  two  hundred  citizens  and 
Confederate  prisoners,  had  caused  a  great  revulsion  of  feeling 
in  that  element  of  the  population  which  had  originally  staunchly 
adhered  to  the  Union.  Reinforced  by  these  recruits,  those  who 
had  always  entertained  Southern  proclivities  suddenly  found 
themselves  overwhelmingly  in  control,  and  the  post-bellum  de 
mocracy  of  Kentucky  began  its  career  with  a  majority  that  could 
scarcely  be  counted. 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  479 

The  gubernatorial  term  of  John  S.  Helm,  who  was  elected  in 
1867,  was  the  first  of  a  succession  of  Democratic  administrations 
which  continued  until  1895. 

Governor  Helm  had  long  been  distinguished  in  both  state  and 
national  politics.  Himself  an  ardent  Southern  sympathizer, 
the  support  of  that  element  was  given  him  all  the  more  warmly 
out  of  respect  for  the  memory  of  his  son,  Gen.  Ben  Hardin 
Helm,  a  gallant  and  much  loved  Confederate  officer,  who  fell 
at  Chickamauga.  Governor  Helm,  dying  soon  after  his  inau 
guration,  was  succeeded  by  Lieut.-Gov.  John  W.  Stevenson, 
also  a  politician  and  lawyer  of  considerable  repute,  and  an 
exceptionally  able  man. 

The  most  noted  Kentucky  politician  of  that  day,  the  one  who 
certainly  exercised  most  influence  in  the  national  councils,  was 
James  B.  Beck.  A  native  of  Scotland,  he  had  been  a  resident  of 
Fayette  County  and  afterward  of  Lexington  from  his  eighteenth 
year.  Studying  law  while  a  farm  labourer,  he  was,  at  still  an 
early  age,  admitted  to  the  bar  and  rapidly  attained  success  and 
prominence  in  his  profession. 

Although  Beck's  intense  and  uncompromising  Southern  senti 
ment  was  well  known,  inasmuch  as  he  made  no  attempt  to  con 
ceal  it  and  was  assiduous  and  liberal  in  rendering  aid  to  Confed 
erate  prisoners  and  his  fellow  "sympathizers"  when  in  distress, 
the  " Canny  Scot"  managed  to  avoid  serious  personal  trouble 
at  a  time  when  others  of  his  way  of  thinking  and  feeling  became 
dangerously  involved.  He  was  cautious  in  act  and  discreet  of 
speech,  had  strong  friends  among  those  in  authority  on  the  dom 
inant  side,  and  could  be  extremely  useful  to  a  friend  no  matter 
on  which  side  he  might  happen  to  be.  So  that,  while  he  was 
watched  closely  and  jealously,  he  escaped  both  exile  and  im 
prisonment,  one  or  the  other  of  which  fate  befell  nearly  every 
other  prominent  Southern  suspect. 

He  was  elected  to  the  lower  house  of  congress  from  the  Ash 
land  district,  in  1868,  and  immediately  became  a  conspicuous 
figure,  taking  rank  with  the  ablest  men  in  the  house,  and,  not 
withstanding  the  then  hopeless  Democratic  minority  in  that 
body,  assisting  in  some  directions  to  shape  legislation.  As  was 
expected  of  him,  and  was  his  chief  purpose  when  he  began 
his  congressional  career,  he  especially  devoted  his  efforts  to 


48o  REMINISCENCES  OF 

combating  the  hostile  legislation  directed  against  the  South,  and 
succeeded  in  modifying  much  which  could  not  be  altogether  de 
feated.  During  the  years  in  which  the  Southern  people  were 
virtually  denied  representation  in  congress,  they  looked  to 
Beck  as  their  spokesman  and  advocate. 

He  displayed  when  sent  to  the  senate,  to  which  body  he  was 
thrice  elected,  dying  in  the  harness,  the  same  shrewd  perception 
and  strong  sagacity  which  had  characterized  his  service  in  the 
house,  and  the  same  extraordinary  capacity  and  willingness  for 
hard  work. 

Perhaps  one  of  the  most  remarkable  instances  —  from  the 
standpoint  of  purely  practical  politics  —  of  how  the  people 
will  sometimes  capsize  the  best  laid  plans  of  the  politicians,  was 
the  nomination  as  a  gubernatorial  candidate  of  Luke  P.  Black 
burn  in  1879.  His  subsequent  election  was  not  at  all  so,  for  a 
Democratic  nomination  at  that  date  in  Kentucky  was  equivalent 
to  election,  and  because  the  same  sentiment  which  gave  him  the 
nomination  was  irresistible  at  the  polls. 

He  was  a  native  of  Woodford  County,  perhaps  the  most  fer 
tile  and  beautiful  part  of  the  Bluegrass  region.  His  father  was 
one  of  the  wealthiest  and  most  prominent  farmers  of  that  coun 
try,  and  his  younger  brother,  Joseph  C.  S.  Blackburn  was  after 
ward  United  States  senator  from  Kentucky.  He  was  educated 
as  a  physician,  and  began  his  professional  life  at  the  age  of  twenty- 
one,  during  an  epidemic  of  cholera  which  wrought  terrible  havoc 
in  central  Kentucky.  Every  physician,  save  himself,  in  the  little 
town  of  Versailles  where  he  was  living,  and  in  the  vicinage,  had 
died  or  fled,  and  Blackburn  alone  remained  to  care  for  the 
many  victims. 

That  was  the  commencement  of  an  extraordinary  arid  heroic 
medical  career.  In  the  course  of  his  long  professional  life,  he 
served  through  a  number  of  other  epidemics  of  cholera  and  seven 
teen  of  yellow  fever.  The  news  that  one  of  these  dread  plagues 
was  prevailing  would  call  him  at  once  to  the  scene  of  danger  and 
death.  He  felt  the  same  impulse  to  encounter  these  dire  ene 
mies  that  some  men  have  to  seek  battle,  but  with  a  nobler  motive. 

That  Doctor  Blackburn  had  a  better  understanding  of  these 
two  diseases  than  any  other  physician  of  the  period  when  he  was 
practising  cannot,  I  think,  be  disputed.  He  was  not  so  learned 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  481 

nor  so  well  trained  as  some  of  his  professional  contemporaries, 
but  he  possessed  that  faculty  of  acute  and  intelligent  observation  • 
which,  I  take  it,  is  mdispensable  and  most  valuable  to  all  scien 
tific  discovery  and  knowledge.  He  had  a  theory  that  if  any  one 
during  the  prevalence  of  a  cholera  epidemic  would  drink  only 
cistern  water  from  a  cistern  into  which  there  could  be  no  seepage, 
that  person  would  be  immune.  He  claimed  that  there  had  been 
no  exception  to  this  rule  in  his  experience.  He  was  much 
ridiculed  for  this  by  many  of  his  learned  confreres;  but,  if  I 
am  not  mistaken,  Koch,  who  years  afterward  discovered  the 
cholera  microbe,  announced  that  this  mischievous  creature  finds 
its  way  into  the  human  system  by  means  of  some  liquid,  most 
generally  water.  If  this  be  true,  water  from  a  well  protected 
cistern  should  be  the  safest. 

He  believed  that  yellow  fever  had  been  originally  brought 
from  Africa  and  naturalized  in  the  tropical  and  sub-tropical 
zones  of  America.  He  believed  it  to  be,  as  he  termed  it,  a  "heat 
disease";  that  is  to  say,  the  material  for  its  existence  having  been 
furnished  by  the  presence  of  an  infected  patient,  it  could  be  prop 
agated  in  any  locality  by  severe  and  long  continued  heat  and 
would  continue  its  ravages  until  freezing  weather  checked  it. 
I  often  heard  him  declare  his  belief  that,  if  yellow  fever  should 
at  any  time  be  introduced  into  any  of  the  Southern  states  as 
early  as  the  first  part  of  June,  it  might  spread  over  the  entire 
country.  This,  it  must  be  remembered,  was  years  before  the 
germ  theory  of  disease  had  been  propounded,  or  the  agency  of 
the  mosquito  in  disseminating  yellow  fever  was  even  suspected. 
The  therapeutic  fraternity  laughed  at  this  also,  and  at  his  sug 
gestion  of  quarantine  precautions.  I  do  not  mean  to  contend 
that  they  were  not  correct;  I,  of  course,  know  even  less  about  such 
matters  than  do  many  highly  intelligent  men  who  have  received 
medical  diplomas.  Some  of  them  went  so  far  as  to  say  that  for 
certain  reasons,  explicable,  perhaps,  but  never  fully  explained, 
yellow  fever  could  not  prevail  in  Kentucky.  I  am  sure,  however, 
that  they  were  wrong  in  that,  because  it  did  come,  and  its  path 
was  marked  by  many  graves. 

Doctor  Blackburn's  announcement  of  his  candidacy  was  at 
first  received  with  amusement.  His  best  friends  thought  it  an 
indiscreet  and  hopeless  venture.  He  was  widely  known  and 


482  REMINISCENCES  OF 

extremely  popular  but  had  never  had  experience  in  office  seeking 
and  was  thought,  quite  justly,  to  know  as  little  about  the  game 
as  a  boy.  Moreover,  he  had  two  or  three  opponents  who  were 
veteran  and  astute  politicians,  and  almost  as  popular  as  himself. 
For  some  weeks  his  aspirations  were  a  matter  of  jest  with  the 
multitude  and  of  distress  to  those  who  felt  compelled  to 
support  him. 

But  just  then/his  oft-repeated  prediction  was  verified.  The 
yellow  fever  suddenly  appeared  along  the  gulf  early  in  June, 
broke  out  almost  immediately  afterward  at  Grenada  and  other 
points  in  Mississippi,  and,  rushing  up  the  great  river  with  the 
velocity  of  an  arrow  fell  with  fearful  virulence  on  the  little 
village  of  Hickman  in  south-western  Kentucky.  In  an  appall 
ingly  brief  time  more  than  eighty  deaths  occurred  there  out  of 
a  population  of  less  than  one  hundred  and  fifty. 

Doctor  Blackburn  at  once  gave  up  his  canvass  and  proceeded 
to  offer  his  services  to  the  sufferers  in  this  obscure  community. 
His  friends  sought  to  influence  him  not  to  go.  Although  much 
older  than  myself,  we  had  long  been  close  and  devoted  friends, 
and  I  earnestly  strove  to  dissuade  him.  I  had  little  hope  that 
his  political  aspirations  would  prove  successful,  but,  thinking  the 
suggestion  might  be  of  some  avail,  urged  him  not  to  abandon 
his  canvass  at  a  time  when  his  every  effort  was  necessary  to 
success.  He  answered  that  he  ardently  desired  the  preferment 
he  was  asking,  but  that  his  duty  was  plain  and  imperative,  and 
he  must  go  to  those  stricken  with  the  pestilence. 

The  work  which  he  did  at  Hickman  was  not  only  dangerous 
but  exceedingly  arduous.  He  had  little  assistance.  Two  other 
physicians,  animated  by  the  same  heroic  spirit,  had  hastened  to 
the  town,  but  one  of  them  had  been  prostrated  with  the  fever  and 
died  in  a  few  days.  The  little  place  could  furnish  few  nurses  for 
the  sick,  and  'all  of  these  were  killed  or  driven  away  by  the  plague. 
At  one  time,  Blackburn,  in  addition  to  the  attention  paid  his 
other  patients,  was  compelled  for  several  days  personally  to 
nurse  a  negro  woman  and  her  five  children,  who  were  lying  help 
less  in  the  clutches  of  the  terrible  sickness.  He  remained  at 
Hickman  until  the  disease  had  disappeared,  and,  with  the  good 
fortune  which  had  attended  him  in  many  similar  experiences, 
passed  through  with  immunity. 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  483 

When  he  returned  to  the  political  field  he  found  a  canvass 
no  longer  necessary;  all  opposition  had  vanished.  Those  who 
had  regarded  his  former  services  of  like  nature  performed  at 
places  and  dates  more  remote,  with  only  languid  admiration, 
now  seeing  them  done  close  at  hand  and  when  the  danger  was 
near  and  menacing,  were  enthused  with  desire  to  reward  him. 
His  competitors  gracefully  and  wisely  retired,  and  he  was  nom 
inated  by  acclamation. 

As  governor,  while  evincing  no  marked  ability  in  the  general 
details  of  administration  and  sometimes  making  the  mistakes 
usual  to  inexperience,  he  accomplished  great  good  in  one  direction. 
He  inaugurated  prison  reforms  greatly  needed,  and,  against  for 
midable  opposition,  courageously  carried  them  to  completion. 
He  was  an  unusually  brave,  true,  earnest,  and  generous  man,  and 
altogether  worthy  of  the  affection  and  esteem  he  inspired. 

J.  Proctor  Knott,  who  succeeded  Blackburn  as  governor,  was 
in  many  respects  —  as  a  lawyer,  forensic  debater,  and  writer  — 
one  of  the  ablest  men  Kentucky  or  the  South  has  produced.  In 
congress,  he  did  very  much  the  same  sort  of  work  as  that  which 
was  so  persistently  and  successfully  accomplished  by  Beck.  His 
indulgence  of  a  vein  of  humour,  unusually  keen  and  racy,  and  a 
certain  satiric  propensity,  to  some  extent  diverted  apprecia 
tion  from  stronger  and  more  substantial  qualities;  but  he  will 
always  be  ranked  high  on  the  roll  of  statesmen  Kentucky  has 
given  the  nation. 

It  is  impossible,  I  believe,  for  any  intelligent  and  sincere  man 
who  has  known  Gen.  Simon  B.  Buckner,  either  personally  or 
by  repute,  not  to  regard  him  with  respect  and  admiration;  and 
with  those  who  have  known  him  best,  who  are  intimately  ac 
quainted  with  the  record  of  both  his  public  and  private  life,  these 
feelings  are  enhanced  nearly  to  that  of  reverence. 

Esteemed  by  his  comrades  of  the  "old"  army  one  of  its  best 
officers,  he  fully  vindicated  that  opinion  by  his  military  conduct 
during  the  Civil  War  and  his  services  to  the  South.  The  rank 
of  lieutenant-general,  given  him  after  more  than  three  years  of 
service,  was  a  testimonial  of  the  confidence  reposed  in  him  by  the 
President  and  congress  of  the  Confederacy;  and,  in  the  estimation 
of  competent  judges,  he  was  one  of  the  most  deserving  on  whom 
the  grade  was  conferred. 


484  REMINISCENCES  OF 

He  was  elected  governor  in  1887.  During  his  administrations 
one  of  the  most  important  and  salutary  political  reforms  ever 
effected  in  the  state  was  inaugurated,  and  afterward,  largely  by 
his  agency  and  example,  was  completed  and  made  permanent. 
The  vice  of  "special  legislation,"  prevalent  and  bad  enough 
in  many  other  states,  had  become,  in  Kentucky,  an  intolerable 
evil.  At  every  session  of  the  legislature  numerous  private  acts 
were  passed  for  the  benefit  of  individuals  or  in  aid  of  certain 
corporations.  "Charter  peddling,"  as  the  practice  was  well 
named,  had  become  almost  a  recognized  profession.  Men  would 
procure  legislative  acts  of  incorporation  with  no  thought  of 
applying  them  to  any  useful  or  legitimate  purpose;  with  no 
intention  at  least  of  themselves  utilizing  such  grants. 

Acts  authorizing  the  construction  of  railroads  constituted  the 
principal  stock  in  trade  of  the  "charter  peddler."  He  would 
procure  one  which,  judiciously  employed,  might  menace  the 
interests  of  some  established  and  "going"  railroad  company, 
with  the  hope,  frequently  realized,  of  selling  out  to  the  company 
threatened.  Charters  would  be  obtained  for  the  construction 
of  railroads  through  parts  of  the  state  where  none  had  been  built, 
but  where  they  were  much  needed,  with  no  purpose,  however, 
of  actual  construction,  but  in  order  to  control  the  situation  until 
parties  entertaining  a  bona  fide  desire  to  build  should  be  ready  to 
buy  them  out.  The  facilities  this  afforded  for  blackmail  and 
harmful  obstruction  will  readily  be  seen.  There  were  at  one 
time  to  be  found  in  the  Session  acts  of  Kentucky  more  than 
one  hundred  such  inutilized  acts  of  incorporation. 

But  very  often,  even  when  the  parties  obtaining  them  honestly 
intended  to  utilize  these  charters,  the  effect  of  such  reckless 
legislation  was  pernicious.  Almost  always  the  right  was  given 
the  incorporators  to  submit  propositions  for  county  and  mu 
nicipal  subscriptions  in  aid  of  such  enterprises,  to  be  provided 
by  taxation.  In  the  anxious  desire  felt  at  one  time  to  obtain 
railroads,  the  people  would  vote  almost  any  aid  asked,  and,  as  a 
consequence,  more  than  one  county  was  made  bankrupt. 

Of  course,  this  had  occasioned  criticism,  and  strenuous  but 
unavailing  efforts  had  been  made  to  stop  it.  When  Buckner 
became  governor  he  adopted  a  very  simple  method  which  effect 
ually  put  an  end  to  the  evil  during  his  term.  He  vetoed  every 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  485 

bill  passed  by  the  two  houses,  containing  any  such  objectionable 
provision,  or  savouring  in  any  degree  of  the  practice;  and  in 
each  veto  message  pointed  out  with  minute  particularity  what 
he  deemed  objectionable.  It  was  useless  to  attempt  to  pass  one 
of  these  bills  over  his  veto  and  a  rather  amusing  as  well  as  unusual 
legislative  custom  resulted,  and  for  awhile  prevailed.  Almost 
every  morning,  during  a  session,  a  score  or  more  of  solons  could 
be  seen  repairing  to  the  executive  office,  reminding  one  of  the 
matutinal  visits  of  congressmen  to  the  President  in  search  of 
patronage.  The  Kentucky  lawmakers,  however,  came  to 
submit  their  bills  to  the  governor,  to  have  them  overhauled  in 
advance,  to  find  out,  as  some  wag  expressed  it,  "Just  how  much 
he  would  stand."  Although  this  imposed  upon  Governor 
Buckner  that  task  of  reading  many  bills  twice  —  reading  them 
before  they  were  passed  as  well  as  after  —  he  cheerfully  per 
formed  the  work;  counselling  freely  with  all,  and  always  frankly 
indicating  "what  he  would  stand." 

The  convention  which  framed  the  present  Constitution  of 
Kentucky  met  during  his  term  of  office.  He  was  one  of  its  most 
prominent  members,  and  aided  materially  in  the  best  work 
it  performed,  that  of  requiring  the  legislature  to  enact  general 
acts  of  incorporation  and  in  other  ways  making  special  legislation 
well-nigh  impossible. 

His  administration  as  governor  —  and  his  entire  political  life 
—  was  marked  by  clear,  wise  judgment,  perfect  dignity  and  firm 
ness,  and  unswerving  rectitude  and  consistency  of  purpose. 

There  were  three  men  in  public  life  from  Kentucky,  at  the  time 
of  which  I  write,  who,  I  have  always  thought,  were  superior 
intellectually  to  their  contemporaries,  and  equal  in  that  respect 
to  any  who  had  preceded  them.  These  were  John  G.  Carlisle, 
William  Lindsay,  and  William  C.  P.  Breckinridge.  Of  the  three, 
Breckinridge  excelled  in  general  culture,  but  they  were  all  well 
and  widely  informed. 

Carlisle  and  Lindsay  were  each  gifted  with  a  mental  trenchancy, 
a  power  of  incisive  penetration  that  was  marvellous.  Their 
minds  sought  out  and  found  the  salient,  material  points  of  any 
subject  of  discussion,  as  unerringly  as  the  lightning  searches  for 
iron.  Carlisle's  extraordinary  capacity  for  clear  and  cogent 
statement  won  the  admiration  of  all  who  ever  heard  him.  His 


486  REMINISCENCES  OF 

presentation  of  his  case  was  so  lucid,  so  comprehensive,  and  yet 
so  terse,  that  it  seemed  to  render  contradiction  impossible  and 
dispense  with  the  necessity  of  argument. 

Lindsay,  although  himself  strong  in  statement,  was  Carlisle's 
inferior  in  that  regard;  but  he  possessed  a  greater  faculty  of 
logical  illustration,  and  could  present  his  contentions  in  more 
varied  form.  Neither  was  a  rhetorician  nor  an  orator, 
although  each  was  a  ready,  impressive,  and  entertaining  speaker. 

I  have  sometimes  thought  Breckinridge  was  the  most  gifted 
and  attractive  orator  I  ever  heard.  He  was  very  brilliant, 
but  there  was  nothing  of  grandiose  declamation  or  ostenta 
tious  ornament  in  his  speech,  and  it  was  replete  with  reason  and 
argument.  His  eloquence,  even  when  most  impassioned, 
flowed  like  a  river,  bank-full  but  limpid,  and  bearing  a  rich  and 
abundant  freight. 

.  Buckner,  Lindsay,  Carlisle,  and.  Breckinridge,  with  thousands 
of  others,  were  read  out  of  the  Democratic  party  when  a  new 
gospel  was  expounded  and  their  souls,  like  the  lion  heart  of  Grover 
Cleveland,  still  clung  to  the  old.  They  could  neither  sanction 
nor  condone  what  they  deemed  heresy  —  the  adoption  of  financial 
fallacies  which  had  time  and  again  been  exposed,  but  which 
the  national  Democratic  convention  sought  to  impose  as  Demo 
cratic  articles  of  faith.  They  refused  to  accept  Mr.  Bryan's 
amazing  conclusion  that  " Sixteen  to  one  is  the  natural  ratio" 
between  the  precious  metals,  and  found  his  "quantitative  theory" 
of  monetary  circulation  quite  as  shallow. 

All  such  men  condemned  also  the  political  manipulation  which, 
conceived  in  fraud,  is  often  achieved  by  violence,  and  totally 
rejected  the  political  morality  which  holds  that  an  election 
stolen  for  partisan  benefit  is  pardonable  theft. 

While  the  Republican  party  has  increased  little  in  actual 
numerical  strength  in  Kentucky  since  1896,  the  differences  upon 
the  money  question  and  revolt  against  the  objectionable  "ma 
chine"  management  and  methods,  which  seem  to  be  invariably 
developed  in  any  party  long  remaining  in  power,  have  so  shorn 
the  regular  Democracy  of  much  of  its  strength,  and  induced  so 
large  an  independent  vote,  that  Kentucky  can  almost  be  reckoned 
among  the  doubtful  states. 

If  an  abolition  of  the  intolerant  spirit  engendered  by  partisan 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  487 

passion  could  be  accomplished  by  the  total  obliteration  of 
party  lines  and  distinctions,  and  a  more  patriotic  and  fraternal 
spirit  be  substituted,  it  would  be  well  to  try  the  experiment 
not  only  in  Kentucky,  but  elsewhere.  Practical  men,  however, 
will  be  deterred  from  attempting  it  by  patent  considerations. 
In  the  first  place,  they  must  realize  how  extremely  difficult  it 
will  be  to  supersede  a  form  of  contention  so  perfectly  in  touch 
with  modern  ideas;  and  if  they  should  succeed  in  diverting  human 
attention  from  this  prolific  and  now  favourite  theme  of  dispute, 
what  then?  Mankind  must  have  something  to  wrangle  about 
outside  of  and  more  general  than  their  ordinary  and  every-day 
affairs.  It  must  be  of  a  kind,  too,  to  enable  every  fire-eyed  dis 
putant  to  believe  that  he  is  rending  his  nether  garment  for  a 
"principle."  The  Byzantine  mob,  in  the  days  of  the  Eastern 
Roman  Empire,  were  satisfied  to  cut  throats  about  the  colours 
of  the  circus,  the  green  and  blue  badges  of  the  charioteers. 
But  that  sort  of  thing  is  scarcely  refined  and  sublimated  enough 
for  modern  civilization.  Religion  —  that  is  to  say,  in  its  dog 
matic  expressions  —  long  furnished  an  extensive  quarry  of  ex 
tremely  satisfactory  controversial  material,  more  gratifying,  per 
haps,  than  any  other,  for  the  reason  that  where  proof  is  impossible 
or  evidence  hopelessly  perplexing,  belief  is  always  more  ardent 
and  assertion  more  confident. 

It  is  probable  that,  for  a  long  time  yet,  this  peculiar  excitement 
which  human  nature  seems  to  demand,  will  be  found  in  political 
controversy  and  partisan  debate.  Many  men  crave  it  as  a  sort  of 
dissipation,  expecting  no  reward  and  not  always  perfectly 
understanding,  or  caring  to  understand,  the  platforms  and  party 
cries  about  which  they  become  so  aroused.  Almost  every  in 
terest,  every  question  affecting  society,  is  dragged  into  the 
political  forum,  not  always  because  actually  requiring  legislative 
attention,  but  to  supply  topics  for  partisan  discussion  and  to 
provide,  as  Mr.  Bryan  phrases  it,  "paramount  issues." 

In  this  agitation  which  furnishes  agreeable  entertainment  for 
the  people,  the  practical  politician  finds  serious  employment 
and  profit.  An  industry  is  created  from  which  the  multi 
tude  derives  amusement,  and  substantial  benefit  accrues  to 
the  professionals  of  high  and  low  degree  who  deal  the  cards  and 
run  the  game. 


488  GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE 

But  it  is  greatly  to  be  deplored  that  this  partisan  spirit  is  so 
prone  to  engender  a  bigotry  and  bitterness  of  feeling  which 
often  disturbs  the  social  relations  of  those  whom  nature  meant 
to  be  friends.  It  is  something,  however,  which  will  always  be 
difficult  of  correction.  The  combative  inclination  and  pride  of 
opinion  out  of  which  it  proceeds,  are  deeply  implanted  in 
humanity  and  manifest  themselves  in  protean  shapes.  It  is 
strange  how  even  the  best  of  the  race  sometimes  cling,  with 
exceptional  pertinacity,  to  ideas  which  promise  the  least  of 
happiness  and  solace,  and  which  reason  would  most  readily  re 
ject.  There  have  been  many  orthodox  Christians  and  excellent 
men  who  I  am  convinced,  would,  if  compelled  to  make  the 
choice,  relinquish  their  trust  in  the  Deity  rather  than  their 
belief  in  the  devil.  t  I  am  quite  sure  that  I  have  known  men 
to  whom  it  would  afford  greater  satisfaction  to  think  that  those 
they  disliked  were  going  to  hell,  than  that  they,  themselves, 
were  going  to  heaven. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

I  CAME  to  Louisville  in  March,  1868,  with  the  intention 
of  making  it  my  residence,  have  lived  here  ever  since, 
and  am  very  glad  to  believe  that  I  will  never  live  any 
where  else.  My  experience  in  such  regard  has  been  neither  ex 
tensive  nor  varied,  but  I  am  convinced  that  no  opportunity  nor 
care  in  selection  could  have  enabled  me  to  find  a  home  more 
agreeable,  certainly  none  more  congenial. 

Having  no  wish  to  indulge  the  common  and,  doubtless,  par 
donable  American  habit  of  sounding  the  praises  of  one's  own 
city,  I  shall  leave  to  abler  and  less  diffident  exploiters  the  duty 
of  proving  Louisville's  superiority  in  all  urban  particulars;  of 
indicating  its  extraordinary  claims  to  commercial  and  industrial 
attention;  and  the  many  reasons  why  intelligent  financiers  should 
favourably  consider  the  opportunities  always  open  within  her 
hospitable  domain  for  profitable  investment.  It  is  just  as  well, 
perhaps  after  all,  that  other  people  shall  not  recognize  these  ad 
vantages  so  thoroughly  as  we  ourselves  do,  for  Louisville  would 
lose  much  of  its  charm  if  it  became  an  overgrown  city. 

I  like  better  to  remember  and  think  of  the  people  I  have 
known  here;  to  recall  the^  characteristic  traits  I  have  so  often 
known  them  exhibit  —  which,  good  or  bad,  have  been  genuine  and 
very  decided — but  more  especially  the  warm,  generous 
sympathy,  the  kindliness  they  have  always  been  so  ready  to 
bestow. 

We  feel  sometimes  indefinable  impressions  which,  while  they 
may  coincide  with  recognized  facts,  yet  seem  independent  of 
them.  Such  are  often  our  likes  or  dislikes  of  people  or  things. 
It  may  be  that  the  love  of  locality,  the  preference  for  well  known 
haunts  and  familiar  scenes  which  the  child  feels,  is  revived  in 
advanced  age;  or  that  the  old  man  instinctively  clings  to  his 
accustomed  habitat  as  an  old  dog  hugs  his  peculiar  chimney 
corner.  But  without  seeking  any  occult  explanation,  it  is  enough 
to  say  that  for  many  reasons  my  present  place  of  residence  has 

489 


490  REMINISCENCES  OF 

always  been  to  me  a  pleasant  one,  and  becomes  more  so  as  the 
years  roll  by. 

Louisville  has  always  been  essentially  Southern  in  its  social 
spirit  and  in  its  customs,  and  an  epitome  of  Kentucky,  in  that 
every  part  of  the  state  • — 'almost  every  county  —  has  been  at  all 
times  represented  in  its  population.  Whatever  is  typical  of  the 
Kentuckian  has  been  abundantly  exhibited  in  the  Louisvillian, 
and  especially  his  genial  desire  to  entertain  and  be  entertained. 
A  numerous  array  of  Civil  War  veterans,  of  both  sides  and  of 
creditable  records,  has  provided  material  for  those  reunions  in 
which  the  reminiscent  old  soldier  delights,  and  at  which,  for 
many  years  past,  Federals  and  Confederates  have  met  as  com 
rades.  Among  its  people  have  ever  been  found  thousands  of 
brave  and  true  men  and  good  and  noble  women,  of  whose 
friendly  regard  the  most  exalted  might  be  proud;  and  per  contra — 
that  we  may  avoid  the  appearance  of  perfection  —  it  must  be 
admitted  that  the  "undesirable"  citizen  has  been  constantly, 
actively,  and  sufficiently  in  evidence  to  quicken  the  consciences 
of  those  who  require  a  visible  warning  against  unrighteousness, 
and  furnish  the  reformer  with  suitable  employment. 

I  have  esteemed  myself  fortunate  in  my  choice  of  an  abode; 
.and  now,  at  an  age  when  a  man  can  reasonably  expect  little  if 
anything  more  than  he  can  find  in  his  friendships  and  affections, 
I  should  earnestly  regret  a  separation  from  old  and  long  associ 
ations,  and  would  deem  it  in  some  sense  a  pleasure  to  die  among 
those  whom  I  have  known  so  long. 

Louisville  was  formerly  often  described  as  "a  city  with  village 
ways."  While  this  was  said  to  a  certain  extent  in  a  spirit  of 
depreciation  —  in  criticism  of  business  methods  supposed  to  be 
not  quite  so  alert  and  up  to  date  as  those  of  some  of  her  com 
mercial  rivals  —  it  might  just  as  truly  have  been  said,  and  was 
doubtless  partly  intended,  as  indicative  of  a  social  trait  which 
can  scarcely  be  thought  a  just  matter  of  criticism.  A  hearty 
and  cordial  fellowship  was  characteristic  of  the  people.  Every 
body  felt  a  lively  and  usually  good-humoured  interest  in  the 
affairs  of  every  one  else;  and  if  much  gossip  was  thereby  occas 
ioned  it  was  not  often  malicious. 

Founded  in  the  first  years  of  the  pioneer  period,  in  1778, 
and  incorporated  by  act  of  the  Legislature  of  Virginia  in    1780, 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  491 

Louisville's  original  population  was  composed  of  the  hunters 
and  backwoodsmen  who  formed  the  advance  guard  of  that  great 
army  of  emigration  which  crossed  the  Alleghanies  to  ultimately 
occupy  and  people  the  West.  The  immediate  successors  of  the 
pioneers  were  a  class  of  men  much  like  them,  when  the  keel- 
boats,  and  soon  afterward  the  big  steam-boats,  began  to  ply  the 
broad,  inland  waters  from  the  falls  of  the  Ohio  to  New  Orleans. 

A  refining  influence  may  have  been  exerted  upon  this  ruder 
element  by  the  French  colony  which  at  an  early  date  located  at 
Louis*  ille,  making  its  headquarters  at  Shippingport,  that  part 
of  the  community  situated  at  the  Falls.  Its  most  conspicuous 
member  was  Audubon,  who  came  to  Louisville  in  1 808  and  lived 
there  until  1820.  But  the  Tarascons,  Berthouds,  Honores,  and 
DeGallons  were  almost  as  well  known. 

These  Gallic  settlers  were,  as  a  rule,  enterprising  and  excellent 
citizens;  they  became  widely  known  and  their  names  are  well 
remembered.  Many  of  their  descendants  remain  in  Kentucky 
and  the  neighbouring  border  states. 

The  growth  of  Louisville  keeping  pace  with  the  increasing 
population  of  the  state  —  very  considerable  for  that  day  —  the 
little  pioneer  post  soon  became  a  city,  as  cities  were  then  rated. 
A  host  of  more  civilized  immigration,  heralding  increase  and 
multiplication,  rolled  in  from  the  Atlantic  States.  In  its  van 
and  constituting  its  main  strength  came  the  ubiquitous  and 
ever  welcome,  the  polished  and  prolific,  Virginian.  Inasmuch  as 
I  might  probably  not  be  here  now  had  he  not  come  then,  I 
regard  his  advent,  from  a  personal  as  well  as  historic  point  of 
view,  with  a  glad  and  pious  feeling. 

Intimate  and  advantageous  commercial  relations  with  rapidly 
developing  communities  of  the  Mississippi  Valley  had  con 
tributed  largely  to  the  prosperity  of  Louisville  in  the  ante-bellum 
period,  but  it  was  materially,  although  temporarily,  impaired 
by  the  war.  She  shared  the  fate  of  some  other  flourishing  cities 
of  the  South  and  the  border  which  were  permanently  occupied  by 
Federal  troops  at  an  early  stage  of  hostilities.  Escaping  the  more 
evident  havoc  of  warfare,  these  cities,  nevertheless,  suffered 
seriously  by -the  diversion  or  lack  of  their  accustomed  trade. 
Their  former  customers  were  either  denied  access  to  them  or 
bereft  of  the  means  of  patronage.  Louisville  was,  perhaps, 


492  REMINISCENCES  OF 

more  injured  in  this  way  than  any  other  place  with  the  exception 
of  New  Orleans.  Although  for  four  years  it  was  an  important 
base  of  operations  and  supplies  for  the  Federal  armies  operating 
in  Tennessee,  Georgia,  Alabama,  and  part  of  Mississippi,  the 
city  derived  no  advantage  from  these  strategic  dispositions. 
The  government  purchased  little  material  and  expended  scarcely 
any  money  there.  Military  occupation  was  of  no  help  to  the 
local  business,  but  rather  a  handicap  upon  it:  The  troops  in  gar 
rison  or  in  transit  bought  whatever  they  needed  beyond  their 
rations  from  the  sutlers,  and  of  every  conceivable  floating 
population  a  nomadic  soldiery,  at  least  in  time  of  war,  is  the  most 
undesirable.  The  merchants  had  little  opportunity  to  do  busi 
ness  at  all;  but  what  there  was  of  it  was  hampered  by  the  system 
of  issuing  "permits  to  trade,"  which,  granted  by  the  com 
manding  military  officers,  were  generally  refused  to  those  who 
were  unable  to  present  a  clean  bill  of  loyalty  and  not  always  given 
to  those  who  could.  This  method  of  restraint  was  very  effective 
in  diminishing  the  general  commercial  prosperity,  but  was  quite 
valuable  to  certain  favourites. 

Evidences  of  the  detrimental  effects  of  thus  converting  a 
city  into  a  garrisoned  town  and  depot  were  yet  visible  in  1868 
and  even  later.  Quite  a  number  of  troops  were  still  stationed 
there;  many  of  the  best  residences  were  occupied  by  officers  and 
chiefs  of  supply  departments,  each  with  a  numerous  clerical 
array;  and  in  certain  parts  of  the  city  long  lines  of  plank  struc 
tures,  used  as  barracks,  stretched  as  far  as  the  eye  could  see.  It 
seemed  well-nigh  impossible  to  dispense  with  the  tokens  and  clear 
away  the  debris  of  war. 

I  have  hitherto  spoken  in  these  reminiscences,  with  few  ex 
ceptions,  only  of  the  dead;  and,  for  obvious  reasons,  will  observe 
the  same  rule  with  little  deviation  in  speaking  of  those  whom  I 
have  known  in  Louisville. 

Should  I  allude  to  all  of  those  yet  living,  who  are  entitled  to 
grateful  recognition  and  kindly  and  admiring  mention  at  my 
hands,  the  list  would  swell  into  something  like  the  dimensions  of 
a  directory;  and  some  of  them,  inasmuch  as  the  greater  part  of 
what  I  have  written  relates  to  the  past,  might  feel  as  if  they  were 
reading  their  own  obituary  notices  unaccountably  delayed. 
Moreover  it  is  never  altogether  safe  to  speak  of  the  living,  even 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  493 

in  what  might  be  regarded  by  third  parties  as  very  flattering 
terms.  We  are  a  sensitive  generation  and  some  of  my  compatriots, 
excellent  and  reasonable  people  in  many  respects,  are  yet  criti 
cal  to  the  last  degree  of  any  mention  made  of  themselves.  I 
have  known  well  meaning  men  get  into  trouble,  even  when  they 
thought  they  were  paying  a  compliment,  simply  because  it  wasn't 
exactly  the  compliment,  or  didn't  stretch  quite  so  far  as,  the 
other  fellow  would  have  liked. 

"D  —  n  it,  sir,"  said  an  indignant  member  of  the  legislature 
to  the  correspondent  of  a  daily  newspaper,  "you  say  in  your 
report  this  morning  that  my  speech  on  yesterday  was  the  best 
delivered  during  the  debate. " 

"Well!  wasn't  it?"  queried  the  astonished  reporter. 

"Suppose  it  was!  Couldn't  you  just  as  easy  have  said  it 
was  the  best  of  the  session?" 

It  is  to  be  borne  in  mind,  also,  that,  at  this  present  writing, 
opinion  fluctuates  readily  and  with  surprising  rapidity.  Some 
men  do  not  entertain  the  same  opinion  to-day  that  they  held 
on  yesterday;  some  of  them  entertain  two  or  three  sets  of  opinions 
upon  the  same  subject,  at  very  nearly  the  same  time.  Com 
menting  on  this  type  of  thinker,  George  M.  Davie  once  remarked : 
"There  must  of  course  be  two  sides  to  every  question,  but  Major 
always  takes  the  third." 

Now,  if  in  writing  about  one  of  these  gentlemen  with  whom 
it  is  so  difficult  to  agree,  I  should  inadvertently  represent  him 
as  having  entertained  the  right  opinion  at  the  wrong  time,  or 
vice  versa  —  that  is  to  say,  if  I  should  write  in  ignorance  that  he 
had  quite  recently  changed  his  opinions,  complications  unpleasant 
to  myself  might  ensue. 

One  of  the  men,  for  many  years  prominent  and  useful  in  the 
community,  with  whom  I  was  well  acquainted  before  I  came  to 
Louisville,  was  the  veteran  journalist,-  Walter  N.  Haldeman, 
the  founder  of  the  Courier- Journal.  In  1861,  Mr.  Haldeman, 
was,  and  had  been  for  some  years  previously,  the  proprietor  and 
editor  of  the  Louisville  Courier.  An  intense  and  ardent  "  South 
ern  rights"  man,  openly  declaring  his  sentiments,  both  per 
sonally  and  in  his  paper,  and  in  terms  which  could  be  neither 
misunderstood  nor  forgiven,  he  found  it  impossible  —  inasmuch 
as  he  was  not  a  man  either  to  recant  or  be  silent  —  to  remain 


494  REMINISCENCES  OF 

in  Louisville  after  it  became  apparent  that  the  city  would  soon 
be  and  probably  long  continue  in  Federal  possession.  Early 
in  the  war,  therefore,  he  moved  with  his  family  and  his  paper  to 
Dixie,  publishing  the  Courier  first  at  Bowling  Green,  afterward  at 
Nashville,  and  ultimately  wherever  the  nomadic  course  and  vary 
ing  fortunes  of  the  Army  of  Tennessee  permitted.  It  was  always 
in  close  attendance  upon  that  army  and  as  near  the  front  as  was 
compatible  with  safe  and  convenient  publication,  and  always  re 
tained  its  title  of  the  Louisville  Courier.  Mr.  Haldeman  and  his 
wife — an  example  of  every  sweet  and  womanly  virtue — were  earn 
est  and  faithful  friends  of  the  Confederate  soldiers,  but  especially 
of  theKentuckians;  and  there  was  scarcely  one  of  these  who  was 
not,  at  some  time  and  in  some  manner,  a  recipient  of  their  kindness. 

He  returned  to  Louisville  shortly  after  the  close  of  the  war 
and  two  or  three  years  subsequently  the  Courier  was  consoli 
dated  with  the  Journal,  the  paper  so  long  and  brilliantly  edited 
by  George  D.  Prentice.  Under  Mr.  Haldeman's  able  control 
the  paper,  with  its  double  title,  was  eminently  successful  and  be 
came  a  very  valuable  property. 

Mr.  Prentice  was  one  of  the  editorial  writers  of  the  Courier- 
Journal  until  he  died.  I  shall  never  forget  one  interview  I  had 
with  him,  because  of  its  strange  mixture  of  the  pathetic  and  the 
amusing.  His  two  sons  had  been  in  the  Confederate  army. 
The  elder,  Courtland,  belonged  to  the  Second  Kentucky  Cavalry, 
the  regiment  I  at  one  time  commanded,  and  was  killed  at  Augusta, 
Ky.,  in  1862.  I  wrote  his  father  about  his  death,  and  suc 
ceeded  in  sending  some  of  his  personal  effects,  which  I  thought 
she  would  value,  through  the  lines  to  his  mother.  The  younger 
son,  Clarence,  was  like  his  brother  in  that  he  was  a  brave  soldier, 
but  totally  unlike  him  in  all  other  respects.  He  was  an  un 
commonly  bright  man,  but  as  wild  and  reckless  a  creature  as  I 
ever  knew,  and  an  inveterate  spendthrift.  After  Clarence  got 
back  from  the  army  the  old  man  never  had  a  dollar  which  he 
might  with  confidence  regard  as  his  own. 

Two  or  three  months  after  my  return  to  Kentucky,  I  was 
walking  one  day  along  one  of  the  streets  of  Frankfort,  when 
Clarence  came  hastily  out  of  a  house  and  accosted  me. 

"General,"  he  said,  "the  old  man  is  in  there  and  wants  to 
talk  to  you  about  Courtland.  Will  you  go  in  and  see  him?" 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  495 

I,  of  course,  readily  assented,  and  found  myself  in  the  presence 
of  a  man  apparently  broken  in  health  and  very  aged;  he  looked, 
indeed,  much  older  than  he  really  was.  He  immediately  began 
to  talk  about  his  dead  son  and  showed  great  emotion;  his  voice 
was  almost  inarticulate,  and  tears  streamed  down  his  cheeks. 

I  was,  naturally,  much  affected  by  his  sorrow  and  could  scarcely 
utter  my  sympathy. 

When  this  had  continued  for  a  few  minutes,  however,  Clarence, 
who  seemed  to  think  the  affair  was  becoming  too  lugubrious,  in 
terposed  in  a  manner  that,  I  confess,  at  first  greatly  shocked  me. 

"Father,"  he  broke  in,  "you  have  no  right  to  distress  General 
Duke  with  your  personal  griefs.  We  all  deeply  regret  Court- 
land's  death,  but  no  amount  of  lamentation  can  bring  him  to 
life  again." 

Then  turning  to  me,  he  went  on,  "General  Duke,  you  must 
excuse  the  old  man.  He  isn't  now  what  he  once  was.  He's 
old  and  feeble  and  pretty  well  played  out,  but  he  shall  never  suffer 
while  I  have  got  a  cent." 

To  my  surprise,  the  old  gentleman  instead  of  resenting  this 
ill-timed  pleasantry  of  Clarence,  seemed  greatly  to  enjoy  it.  He 
grinned  broadly  and  said  in  a  thin,  quavering  voice: 

"That's  very  filial,  my  son!  It's  a  very  proper  sentiment, 
indeed.  But  it's  no  more'  than  fair,  for  you  know  I  suffer  like 
hell  when  you  haven't  got  a  cent. " 

I  was  admitted  to  practice  at  the  Louisville  bar  in  1869.  I 
think  I  risk  nothing  in  saying  that  it  would  have  compared  fav 
ourably  in  legal  ability  and  attainment,  forensic  talent  and  de 
votion  to  professional  duty,  with  any  similar  body  of  men  in 
the  United  States. 

Among  its  veterans  were  James  S.  Speed,  attorney-general  dur 
ing  Mr.  Lincoln's  administration;  Joshua  A.  Bullitt,  previously 
a  member  of  the  appellate  bench  of  Kentucky;  Isaac  Caldwell, 
William  F.  Bullock,  Thomas  W.  Gibson,  Humphrey  Marshall,  Ed 
ward  P.  Worthington,  Robert  W.  Woolley,  Peter  B.  Muir,  John 
W.  Barr,  afterward  judge  of  the  United  States  District  Court 
for  the  district  of  Kentucky;  Kemp  Goodloe,  Martin  Bijur,  A. 
M.  Gazlay,  James  Harrison,  and  others  of  perhaps  equal  ability, 
although  not  so  successful  or  well  known.  Just  coming  into  full 
practice,  although  not  yet  risen  to  the  eminence  they  subsequently 


496  REMINISCENCES  OF 

attained,were  John  M.  Harlan,  since  and  for  many  years  associ 
ate  justice  of  the  Supreme  Court;  Benjamin  D.  Bristow, 
afterward  secretary  of  the  treasury;  Byron  Bacon,  W.  R. 
Thompson,  John  Mason  Brown,  D.  W.  Sanders  and  genial, 
eloquent  Phil  Lee,  whose  oratory  charmed  susceptible  juries 
and  whose  humour  delighted  his  colleagues  of  the  bar. 

There  were  many  younger  men,  then  in  their  professional 
apprenticeship,  who  in  due  time  won  merited  distinction,  and 
quite  a  number  of  these  are  yet  living.  Of  those  who  have  passed 
away,  and  whose  names  are  held  in  especial  honour  and  affection 
by  their  associates,  may  be  particularly  mentioned  Albert 
S.  Willis,  George  B.  Eastin,  Alex.  Booth,  St.  John  Boyle,  Thomas 
S.  Speed,  George  M.  Davie,  Thomas  W.  Bullitt,  and  James 
P.  Helm. 

Bullitt  was  my  college  mate  and  one  of  my  closest  comrades 
in  the  army.  At  the  date  of  his  death,  our  friendship  had  endured 
for  more  than  half  a  century,  becoming,  if  possible,  constantly 
more  cordial.  For  many  years  a  warm  friendship  had  existed 
also  between  Helm  and  myself.  I  have  never  known  men  purer, 
nobler,  and  braver  than  they  were,  or  who  more  deserved  and 
more  generally  commanded  respect  and  admiration. 

At  that  date  the  elevation  of  comparatively  young  men  to  the 
bench  was  not  so  frequent  as  it  is  now,  and  the  judges  who  pre 
sided  over  the  courts  sitting  in  Louisville,  at  the  time  of  which  I 
write,  were  men  of  mature  age  and  ripe  professional  experience. 
Horatio  W.  Bruce,  who  not  a  great  while  before,  had  served  in 
the  Confederate  congress,  was  judge  of  the  Circuit  Court  of  the 
judicial  district  in  which  Jefferson  County  was  then  included; 
he  was  afterward  chancellor,  and  then  became  chief  counsel 
of  the  Louisville  &  Nashville  Railroad  Company.  Henry  S. 
Stites,  judge  of  the  Court  of  Common  Pleas,  was  already  distin 
guished  for  previous  and  long  service  on  the  bench,  in  the  course 
of  which  he  had  served  a  term  on  the  appellate  bench.  Thomas 
B.  Cochran,  a  strong  man  and  excellent  lawyer,  was 
chancellor. 

Bland  Ballard,  then  judge  of  the  United  States  District  Court 
for  Kentucky,  was  a  remarkably  able  man.  His  intellect  was 
clear,  vigorous,  and  unusually  fertile  and  acute,  his  character 
positive  and  unyielding,  and  in  temper  he  was  somewhat  cynical, 


GENERAL  BASIL   W.  DUKE  497 

a  disposition  much  modified,  however,  by  his  keen  appreciation 
of  the  humorous. 

While  his  knowledge  of  law  was  profound  and  extensive,  he 
seemed  as  little  influenced  by  precedent  or  controlled  by  mere 
technicalities  as  was  possible  in  one  of  his  professional  education 
and  instincts.  Apparently  his  main  difficulty  on  the  bench  was 
to  overcome  a  natural  inclination  to  become  the  advocate.  He 
discerned  with  quick  apprehension  every  point  in  a  case,  but  could 
be  urged  by  imprudent  insistency  into  undue  consideration  of 
something  quite  opposite  to  the  pleader's  contention,  and  who 
ever  was  so- incautious  as  to  enter  into' argument  with  him  was 
almost  sure  to  be  worsted. 

He  was  extremely  partisan  in  his  political  opinions,  but  I 
never  thought  him  so  influenced  on  the  bench.  He  was  certainly 
no  respecter  of  persons,  and  the  younger  members  of  the  bar 
generally  fared  better  before  him  than  the  older  and  more 
established  practitioners.  Some  of  the  lawyers  who  had  been 
Confederate  soldiers  hesitated,  for  a  time,  to  practise  in  his  court 
because  of  his  very  decided  hostility  to  ;c  disloyal"  sentiment; 
but  it  soon  became  evident  that  the  ex-Confederates  would  re 
ceive  from  him  their  full  share  of  favourable  countenance,  and 
that  his  political  bias  in  nowise  controlled  his  personal  feelings  or 
official  relations. 

Gabriel  C.  Wharton  and  Eli  Murray  were  at  that  time  serving 
respectively  as  United  States  district  attorney  and  United  States 
marshal  for  the  district  of  Kentucky;  both  were  extremely 
popular  and  capable.  Each  had  served  during  the  entire  war 
with  the  Kentucky  Federal  troops  and  Murray  was,  perhaps,  the 
youngest  brigadier-general  in  either  army.  At  the  age  of 
twenty-one,  he  commanded  a  division  of  cavalry  in  Sherman's 
march  to  the  sea,  with  exceptional  gallantry  and  efficiency. 

Two  of  the  lawyers  whom  I  have  mentioned,  Byron  Bacon 
and  George  M.  Davie,  were,  in  addition  to  excellence  in  their 
profession,  possessed  of  more  than  ordinary  talent  in  other  ways. 
Had  either  devoted  his  attention  exclusively  to  literature,  he 
would,  I  believe,  have  achieved  marked  success  in  that  line;  for 
each  wrote  with  unusual  wit  and  vigour  and  in  a  singularly  lucid 
and  pleasing  style.  Very  little  written  by  either  has  received  even 
limited  publication.  Both  were  extremely  reluctant  to  appear 


498  REMINISCENCES  OF 

in  print,  entertaining  a  nervous  and  rather  amusing  apprehension 
that  notoriety  so  gotten,  might  discourage  their  clients  and  in 
juriously  affect  their  practice.  But  as  such  harm  cannot  now 
be  done  them,  and  as  I  naturally  desire  to  sustain  a  claim  in 
which  I  feel  full  confidence,  by  actual  proof,  I  may  be  pardoned 
if  I  reproduce  a  brief  specimen  from  the  pen  of  each. 

Some  thirty  or  more  years  ago,  Bacon  at  a  meeting  of  the 
Kentucky  Bar  Association,  responded  to  the  toast,  "How  to 
Explain  to  Your  Client  Why  You  Lost  His  Case."  This  ad 
dress  appeared  in  the  papers  at  the  time  and  was  subsequently 
republished  in  the  Southern  Bivouac.  It  is  something  that  does 
not  lose  its  flavour  with  age. 

I  deprecate  any  thought  that  I  respond  because,  from  a  more  extended 
experience  than  my  legal  brethren,  I  bring  to  the  solution  of  this  question 
the  exhaustive  learning  and  skill  of  the  specialist.  The  characteristic  modesty 
of  our  profession  forbids  that  I  should  arrogate  to  myself  to  instruct  the  emi 
nent  lawyers  around  me,  wherein  they  doubtless  have  attained  that  perfec 
tion  which  only  long  practice  can  give. 

I  assume,  therefore,  that  the  subject  was  proposed  for  the  edification  of 
novitiates  —  those  "young  gentlemen"  to  whom  Blackstone  so  often  and 
so  feelingly  alludes,  who,after  a  long  and  laborious  course  of  study,  have  been 
found,  upon  an  examination  by  the  sages  of  the  law,  not  to  have  "fought 
a  duel  with  deadly  weapons  since  the  adoption  of  the  present  constitution," 
and  have  been  admitted  to  our  ranks.* 

To  them,  then,  I  shall  offer  briefly  some  suggestions  upon  this  point 
hoping  that  they  may  not  find  them  of  practical  value  upon  the  termination 
of  their  first  case. 

The  question,  as  framed,  is  not  unlike  that  with  which  Charles  II  long 
puzzled  the  Royal  Society.  He  demanded  the  cause  of  certain  phenomena, 
the  existence  of  which  he  falsely  assumed.  The  answer  was  simply  the 
denial  of  the  existence  of  the  phenomena.  What  lawyer  ever  attempted  to 
explain  the  failure  of  a  case  upon  the  hvpothesis  that  he  had  lost  it?  That 
a  lawyer  cannot  lose  a  case  is  as  well  established  a  maxim  as  that  the  king 
can  do  no  wrong,  or,  that  the  tenant  cannot  deny  his  landlord's  title.  Elimi 
nate  this  error,  and  our  question  is  of  easy  solution. 

Coke  tells  us  that  law  is  the  "perfection  of  human  reason";  Burke  that  it 
is  "the  pride  of  the  human  intellect";  "the  collected  reason  of  ages,  combining 
the  principles  of  eternal  justice  with  the  infinite  variety  of  human  concerns"; 
"the  most  excellent,  yea,  the  exactest  of  the  sciences";  and  the  eloquent 
Hooker,  that  "her  seat  is  the  bosom  of  God,  her  voice  the  harmony  of  the 
spheres;  all  things  in  heaven  and  on  earth  do  her  homage  —  the  least  as 
feeling  her  care,  the  greatest  as  not  exempt  from  her  power."  But  we  know 
that,  if  it  be  the  purest  of  reason,  the  exactest  of  the  sciences,  its  administra- 

*Before  admission  to  the  practice  of  law  in  Kentucky,  the  applicant  is  required  to  make  oath 
that,  since  the  adoption  of  the  present  Constitution  of  that  State  he,  being  a  citizen  thereof, 
has  not  fought  a  duel  with  deadly  weapons  with  another  citizen  of  the  State. 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  499 

tion  is  not  always  entrusted  to  the  severest  of  logicians  or  the  exactest  of 
scientists.  We  know  that  the  great,  the  crowning  glory  of  "our  noble  English 
common  law"  is  its  uncertainty,  and  therein  lies  the  emolument  and  pleas 
urable  excitement  of  its  practice. 

If,  oblivious  of  this,  you  shall  have  assured  your  client  of  success  in  the 
simplest  case,  the  hour  of  his  disappointment  will  be  that  of  your  tribulation, 
and  professional  experience  can  extend  to  you  no  solace  or  aid. 

But  your  client's  cause  has  resulted  unfavourably.  You,  of  course,  are 
never  to  blame;  the  fault  is  that  of  the  judge,  the  jury,  or  your  client  himself, 
and  it  may  be  of  all  three.  It  becomes  your  duty  to  divert  the  tide  of  his 
wrath  into  those  channels  where  it  can  do  the  least  possible  harm.  If  he 
be  a  crank  and  shoots  the  judge  or  cripples  a  juror,  they  fall  as  blessed  mar 
tyrs,  and  their  places  and  their  mantles  are  easily  filled;  but  not  so  readily 
your  place  or  your  mantle.  As  one  of  America's  sweetest  poets,  Mr.  George 
M.  Davie,  has  expressed  it  in  a  touching  tribute  to  our  professional  and 
social  worth,  unequalled  for  delicacy  of  sentiment,  boldness  of  imagery,  and 
beauty  of  diction  in  the  whole  range  of  English  poetry: 

"Judges  and  juries  may  flourish  or  may  fade, 
A  vote  can  make  them  as  a  vote  has  made; 
But  the  bold  barrister,  a  country's  pride, 
When  once  destroyed  can  never  be  supplied." 

The  selection  then  of  a  target  for  your  client  (I  use  the  word  "target" 
metaphorically)  must  rest  upon  the  peculiar  facts  and  circumstances  of  the 
case  and  the  "sound  discretion,"  as  the  venerated  Story  has  it,  of  the  counsel. 
But  avoid,  if  possible,  imputing  the  blame  to  your  client;  for  although  this 
has  been  attended  with  very  happy  results,  yet  his  mood  at  such  times  is 
apt  to  be  homicidal;  and,  moreover,  you  should  bear  in  mind  that  there  your 
aim  is  to  conciliate. 

"Who  wrote  that  note?"  demanded  the  Indiana  lawyer  who,  under  the 
old  system  of  procedure,  had  declared  in  covenant  as  on  a  writing  obligatory, 
and  gone  out  of  court  on  a  variance. 

"I  got  Squire  Brown  to  write  it,"  answered  his  sorely  perplexed  and  dis 
comfited  client. 

"I  thought  so,"  sneered  the  learned  counsel.  "Didn't  you  know  that 
no  d  —  n  magistrate  could  write  a  promissory  note  that  would  fit  a 
declaration?" 

First,  as  to  the  jury:  Upon  this  head  I  need  not  enlarge,  only  remind  you 
that  you  are  not  held  by  the  profession  as  committed  or  estopped  by  any 
eulogium,  however  glowing,  which  you  may  have  pronounced  during  the 
progress  of  the  trial  on  their  intelligence  and  integrity.  It  is  only  in  the 
capacity  of  a  scape-goat  that  the  American  juror  attains  the  full  measure  of 
his  utility,  and  as  such  he  will  ever  be  regarded  by  our  profession  with  grat 
itude  not  unmingled  with  affection. 

But  it  is  to  the  judge  that  we  turn  in  this  extremity  with  unwavering 
confidence.  The  serenity  and  grandmotherly  benignity  enthroned  upon 
his  visage  is  to  the  layman  that  placidity  of  surface  which  indicates  fathom 
less  depths  of  legal  lore;  to  the  lawyer  it  bespeaks  the  phlegmatic  tempera 
ment  of  one  whose  mission  is  to  bear  unmurmuringly  the  burdens  of  others. 

It  comes  upon  you  like  a  revelation  that  your  weeks  of  study,  your  elabor 
ate  preparation,  your  voluminous  brief,  are  all  for  naught;  that  the  impetuous 


Soo  REMINISCENCES  OF 

torrent  of  your  eloquence  has  dashed  itself  against  his  skull,  only  to  envelop 
it  in  fog  and  mist,  and  more  "in  sorrow  than  in  anger"  you  confess  that  the 
presumption  that  every  man  knows  the  law  cannot  be  indulged  in  his  favour. 
Even  your  luminous  exposition  has  failed  to  enlighten  him. 

You  need  not  spare  him.  He  thrives  on  abuse.  Year  in  and  year  out 
he  bears  the  anathemas  of  disappointed  lawyers  and  litigants  with  the  stolid 
indifference  of  Sancho  Panza's  ass  in  the  valley  of  the  pack-staves,  or  beneath 
the  missiles  of  the  galley-slaves,  and  society  comes  finally  to  regard  him 
pretty  much  as  did  Sancho  his  ass.  It  berates  him,  overtasks  him,  half 
starves  him,  and  loves  him. 

But,  seriously  considered,  our  question  is  only  a  long-standing  and  harm 
less  jest  of  the  bar,  meaningless  in  actual  practice. 

The  lawyer  is  untiring  in  his  client's  behalf,  and  the  client  knows,  be  the 
result  what  it  may,  that  he  has  had  the  full  measure  of  his  lawyer's  industry, 
zeal,  and  ability,  and  requires  no  explanation. 

Lord  Erskine  said  that  in  his  maiden  speech  "he  felt  his  children,  tugging 
tt  his  gown  and  heard  them  cry,  'Now,  father,  is  the  time  for  bread.'  The 
British  bar  applauded  the  sentiment.  The  American  lawyer  throughout 
the  case  feels  his  client  tugging  at  his  gown,  and  if  unsuccessful,  is  sustained 
by  the  consciousness  that  he  has  done  his  whole  duty  as  God  has  given  him 
to  see  and  perform  it;  and,  should  he  want  further  consolation,  he  can  open 
that  oldest  of  all  the  books  of  the  law  and  there  read  these  words,  which 
may  soothe  his  wounded  spirit,  and  possibly  best  answer  the  question  of 
to-night: 

"I  returned  and  saw  under  the  sun  that  the  race  is  not  to  the  swift,  nor 
the  battle  to  the  strong;  neither  yet  bread  to  the  wise,  nor  yet  riches  to  men 
of  understanding,  nor  yet  favour  to  men  of  skill,  but  time  and  chance  happen- 
cth  to  them  all." 

I  might  choose  at  random  from  Davie's  productions,  prose  and 
verse,  with  the  assurance  of  selecting  something  that  would  meet 
with  favour.  His  translations  of  the  Horatian  odes  have  been 
esteemed  by  competent  critics  as  among  the  best  attempted  of 
these  graceful,  versatile,  and  fascinating  poems,  and  it  was  the 
work  in  which  he  took  most  pleasure. 

"There  is  scarcely  a  man  of  letters,  "it  has  been  said,  "who 
has  not  at  one  time  or  other  versified  or  imitated  some  of  the 
odes  of  Horace";  and  "Horatian  scholars  feel  an  interest  in 
examining  how  each  succeeding  translator  grapples  with  the 
difficulties  of  interpretation. " 

My  own  judgment  in  such  a  matter  is  of  little  value,  but  no 
translations  I  have  ever  seen  seem  to  have  rendered  more  per 
fectly  the  meaning  and  spirit  or  caught  more  accurately  the 
rythmic  measure  and  cadence  of  the  original.  I  append  his 
translation  of  the  ode  "Eheu  Fugaces,"  which  I  think  was  his 
own  favourite,  in  which  the  usually  jovial  poet,  forgetting  some- 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  501 

thing  of  his  merry  badinage  and  careless  philosophy,  suggests 
sadder  yet  grander  reflections  in  more  exalted  strain: 

"Posthumus,  O  Posthumus!  how  swift  the  years  are  flying! 
Alas!  no  piety  can  bring  delay  to  wrinkling  brows 
Nor  stay  the  step  of  Age  that's  pressing  closer  on  us, 
Nor  check,  but  for  a  moment,  unconquerable  Death! 

"Not  even,  O  my  comrade!  if,  as  the  days  are  passing, 
You  should  appease-with  sacrifice  of  hecatombs  of  kine 
The  unrelenting  Pluto  —  whom  Tityus  imprisons, 
And  triply  huge  Geryon,  within  his  sombre  waves. 

"Those  waves,  ah!  well  we  know,  must  some  day  be  sailed  over 
By  all  of  us  who've  tasted  the  bounties  of  this  earth; 
Whether  the  time  allotted,  in  regal  wealth  we're  living, 
Or  struggling  on  through  penury,  poor  tenants  of  the  field. 

"For,  all  in  vain  we  guard  us  from  bloody  fields  of  battle, 
And  from  the  broken  billows  of  Hadria's  shrieking  wave; 
In  vain  we  shun  the  hot  winds,  that  blast  the  fields  of  autumn 
And  bring  the  deadly  pestilence  to  blight  the  frames  of  men; 

"Still  are  we  doomed,  hereafter,  to  see  the  black  Cocytus, 
That  wanders  on  forever  with  always  languid  stream; 
To  watch  the  foul  Danaids,  and  Sisyphus,  ^Eolid, 
As  hopelessly  he  labours  on  at  his  eternal  toik 

"Your  lands  must  be  relinquished;  the  house  that  you  inhabit, 
And  the  dear  wife,  so  pleasing,  must  all  be  left  behind, 
And,  of  the  groves  you  cherish  —  a  little  while  the  master  — 
Shall  not  a  leaf  go  with  you,  but  cypress  wreaths  accurst! 

"Then  will  your  heir  —  more  worthy! —  bring  forth  that  old  Caecuban 
That  you  have  kept  so  charily  beneath  an  hundred  keys; 
And,  splashing  with  profusion  the  very  floors,  be  drinking 
Your  wines,  more  rare  than  those  that  crown  the  feasts  of  Pontiff  kings!" 

The  medical  profession  was  also  well  represented  in  Louisville, 
when  I  first  knew  the  city,  as,  indeed,  it  has  been  at  all  times. 
There  were  in  its  ranks  many  bright  and  talented  men,  reputed 
to  be  of  excellent  ability,  and  who  certainly  strove  honestly  to 
be  useful  in  their  vocation. 

The  patriarch  and  Nestor  of  these  disciples  of  the  healing  art 
was  Dr.  Theodore  F.  Bell,  a  sincere,  well-meaning,  but  rather 
visionary  man.  While  there  is  much  of  wisdom  apparent  in  medi 
cal  science,  as  we  see  it  in  practice,  there  is  so  much  more  con 
cealed  from  vision  behind  the  veil  of  faith  that  we  rarely  know 


502  REMINISCENCES  OF 

just  how  to  rate  its  exponents.  It  was  generally  believed  that 
Doctor  Bell  was  exceedingly  learned,  and  universally  conceded 
that  he  was  extremely  theoretical.  He  had  an  abundance  of 
the  sort  of  erudition  which  can  furnish  quotations,  seemingly 
conclusive,  in  support  of  any  conceivable  contention,  and  no 
amount  of  practical  contradiction,  no  opposing  fact,  could  shake 
his  confidence  in  a  theory  once  adopted.  His  record  of  cures 
effected  was  not,  I  believe,  remarkable;  but  he  could  talk  and 
write  in  a  fashion  which  might  have  consoled  the  afflicted  visit 
ing  the  pool  of  Siloam,  or  excited  hope  in  the  bosom  of  Lazarus. 

During  the  yellow  fever  epidemic  of  1878,  he  won  the  admira 
tion  and  regard  of  the  merchants  of  Louisville  —  who  deprecated 
the  unbusinesslike  reluctance  of  customers  to  come  to  the  city 
for  fear  they  might  be  plague  stricken  and  die  —  by  proving  so  far 
as  it  could  be  done  by  scholastic  argumentation,  that,  because 
of  certain  mysterious  hygenic  conditions,  the  yellow  fever  could 
not  possibly  visit  Louisville.  The  commercial  gratitude  for 
service  so  conservative  was  expressed  at  a  large  public  meeting, 
attended  by  the  best  citizens,  the  majority  of  whom  were  quali 
fied  voters;  and  a  gold  medal  intended  to  be  commerative  of  the 
victory  of  speculative  science  over  vulgar  prejudice,  was  pre 
sented  to  the  doctor.  It  might  have  been  supposed  that  such 
an  endorsement  would  settle  the  matter,  even  against  the  laws 
of  nature.  But  the  perversity  of  a  malignant  disease  sometimes 
baffles  all  human  calculation,  and  that  same  night  fifty  indigenous 
cases  of  the  fever,  resulting  in  nearly  as  many  deaths,  appeared 
in  Louisville. 

The  three  members  of  the  medical  fraternity  with  whom  I  was 
most  intimately  acquainted,  and  they  were  certainly  among  the 
brightest,  were  Drs.  David  W.  and  Lundsford  P.  Yandell, 
and  Dr.  Richard  O.  Cowling.  Each  ranked  high  in  his  pro 
fession,  and  was  cultured,  witty,  and  exceptionally  agreeable. 
They  were  all,  of  course,  social  favourites. 

I  knew  Dr.  David  Yandell  very  well  during  the  Civil  War, 
in  which  he  acquired  enviable  reputation  as  a  surgeon.  I  shall 
never  forget  an  episode  in  which  he  figured  at  Murfreesboro, 
shortly  before  the  battle  of  Stone  River.  It  occurred  on  the 
occasion  of  Gen.  John  H.  Morgan's  "marriage  to  Miss  Ready, 
of  that  place,  which  was  attended  by  General  Bragg,  commander- 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  503 

in-chief  of  the  Army  of  Tennessee,  all  of  the  corps  and  division 
commanders  and  a  large  concourse  of  officers  of  minor 
rank. 

At  a  late  hour  of  the  evening,  Generals  Bragg,  Polk,  Hardee, 
and  Cheatham,  with  three  or  four  subordinates,  all  of  whom 
except  myself  were  staff  officers,  were  assembled  by  special  in 
vitation  in  one  room  of  the  mansion  to  discuss  some  particularly 
good  wine,  which  the  host  had  jealously  reserved  out  of  his 
ante-bellum  supply. 

Doctor  Yandell,  of  course,  was  present,  much  in  evidence,  and, 
as  it  might  be  said,  "  in  a  class  by  himself. "  He  was  a  symmetri 
cally  formed  and  quite  handsome  man,  and  showed  up  well  even 
when  beside  the  tall,  soldierly  figures  and  impressive  bearing  of 
the  three  senior  generals,  which  were  in  striking  contrast  with  the 
shorter,  sturdier  frame  and  almost  boyishly  jovial  manner  of 
Cheatham. 

The  conversation  soon  became  animated  and  informal  between 
the  chiefs,  the  younger  officers  maintaining  a  discreet  and  re 
spectful  reticence  while  manifesting  a  due  and  proper  apprecia 
tion  of  what  was  said  by  their  superiors.  A  number  of  excellent 
stories  were  told;  even  General  Bragg,  I  remember,  told  one  on 
Cheatham  at  which,  of  course,  everybody  laughed  very  heartily, 
especially  as  Cheatham,  who  was  disposed  to  laugh  at  anything, 
set  the  pace. 

At  length  Yandell  was  requested  to  furnish  an  exhibition  which 
was  always  immensely  popular  with  his  comrades  of  all  grades. 
His  power  of  mimicry  was  almost  unrivalled,  and  he  could  on  the 
spur  of  the  movement  invent  situations  and  put  speeches  into 
the  mouths  of  those  he  impersonated  as  vraisemblant  as  the  look, 
tone,  and  gesture  he  reproduced. 

On  this  occasion  he  represented  first  General  Polk,  then  General 
Hardee,  as  dramatis  persona  in  some  imaginary  scene  and  dia 
logue,  in  a  manner  which  greatly  delighted  his  auditors.  Stately 
and  dignified  as  were  these  distinguished  officers,  than  whom 
none  were  more  admired  and  loved  by  all  who  served  under  or 
with  them,  they  were  yet  extremely  good-humoured,  and,  in 
their  hours  of  relaxation,  disposed  even  to  be  on  familiar  terms 
with  their  subordinates.  Moreover,  they  not  only  liked  Yandell 
but  they  liked  to  be  amused;  so  they  made  no  protest,  General 


5<H  REMINISCENCES  OF 

Polk  only  occasionally  interpolating  a  good-natured  criticism 
when  he  thought  the  delineation  a  trifle  strained. 

Just  as  the  doctor  was  finishing  with  Hardee,  General  Bragg 
was  called  out  of  the  room  and  there  was  at  once  a  general  de 
mand  that  Yandell  should  imitate  him.  This,  indeed,  was  one 
of  Yandell's  favourite  roles  and  he  could  render  it  to  perfection; 
but  he  did  not  like  to  attempt  it  except  when  at  safe  range  from 
the  original.  Nearly  every  one  stood  in  some  awe  of  the  fierce 
old  miliatary  autocrat,  and,  of  course,  those  of  lesser  rank 
especially  so. 

The  doctor,  therefore,  for  a  while  positively  declined.  He 
was  not  borrowing  trouble,  he  said,  and  had  no  wish  that  Bragg, 
suddenly  returning,  should  surprise  him.  One  of  the  staff  officers, 
however,  said  that  he  knew  that  the  general  was  occupied  with 
business  —  the  examination  of  important  despatches  —  which 
would  detain  him  at  least  an  hour;  so  the  doctor  yielded  to  im 
portunity  and  began  his  star  piece. 

Every  one  present  was  a  competent  judge  of  it  —  that  is  to 
say,  all  had  at  some  time  witnessed  the  real  thing  —  and  all 
realized  that  nothing  could  be  more  true  to  life  than  his  represen 
tation  of  Bragg  when  in  one  of  his  paroxysms  of  tigerish  ire  and 
expatiating  on  his  favourite  themes,  of  the  too  prevalent  use  of 
whiskey  and  lack  of  discipline  in  the  army;  striding  to  and  fro, 
rasping  his  hands  savagely,  scowling  like  an  Afrite,  and  jerk 
ing  out  brief  sentences  in  abrupt,  raucous  utterance. 

At  the  very  climax  of  the  performance,  but  when  the  doctor's 
back  was  turned,  unfortunately,  toward  the  door,  so  that  he 
could  see  no  one  enter,  Bragg  unexpectedly  came  in.  He  seemed 
immediately  to  take  in  the  situation,  and  halted  just  within  the 
room,  clasping  his  hands  behind  his  back  and  drawing  his  tall, 
gaunt  form  to  its  full  height.  His  head  was  dropped  slightly 
forward,  and  a  grin  of  malicious  amusement  flitted  over  his 
stern  features,  partially  obscuring  the  gleam  of  habitual  menace 
in  his  fierce  eyes. 

Of  course,  this  greatly  enhanced  the  interest  previously  felt 
in  the  rendition.  Polk  and  Hardee  gave  way  to  unrestrained 
laughter,  and  Cheatham  fairly  roared  his  enjoyment. 

The  doctor,  encouraged  by  the  redoubled  merriment  which 
he  construed  to  be  a  tribute  to  the  excellence  of  his  performance, 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  505 

exerted  himself  all  the  more  strenuously;  but  suddenly  turning 
found  himself  confronted  with  the  grim  old  martinet.  He  stopped 
as  if  he  had  been  shot  through  the  heart  and  staggered  back  to 
the  wall. 

"Go  on,  doctor,"  said  Bragg,  "don't  let  me  interrupt  you. 
It  is  certainly  entertaining  and  doubtless  quite  accurate." 

But  the  doctor  wouldn't  go  on;  and  never,  I  have  reason  to 
believe,  repeated  the  performance. 

Of  the  ministers  of  all  sects  and  denominations  whom  I  have 
known  in  Louisville  it  is  impossible  to  speak  too  highly.  Among 
them  were  several  eminent  divines,  and  all  of  them  excellent, 
devout  and  earnest  men,  striving  to  conform  their  own  lives  to 
the  religious  tenets  they  taught  and  zealous  in  the  work  of  char 
ity  and  humanity. 

The  names  of  some  of  them  have  been  widely  known  and  are 
held  in  reverence  by  thousands  who  never  saw  them.  Drs. 
Stuart  Robinson  and  John  A.  Broaddus  were  the  most  famous 
of  these  divines  as  preachers  and  writers;  but  Edward  P.  Humph 
rey,  Samuel  R.  Wilson,  Wm.  H.  Whitsett,  James  P.  Boyce, 
Basil  Manly,  and  Charles  Craik  were  scarcely  less  distinguished 
and  as  greatly  loved. 

For  many  years  the  Presbyterians  of  Kentucky  were  sorely 
perturbed  in  spirit  by  the  controversies,  ever  waxing  warmer, 
between  Dr.  Stuart  Robinson  and  Dr.  Robert  J.  Breckin- 
ridge.  Each  was  an  ecclesiastical  Titan,  with  the  ability  and 
spirit  of  a  pontiff,  and  neither  could  well  brook  a  divided  sover 
eignty.  In  the  extremity  of  polemical  fervour,  Dr.  Breckin- 
ridge  finally  declared: 

"There  can  be  no  harmony  in  the  Presbyterian  church  until 
the  Almighty  in  his  mercy  has  taken  me  to  Heaven,  or,  in  His 
wisdom,  has  sent  Stuart  Robinson  back  to  Ireland." 

They  were  also  antagonistic  in  political  sentiment;  Doctor 
Breckinridge  was  an  intense  Union  man;  Doctor  Robinson  an 
ardent  Southern  man.  During  the  war  the  latter  was  compelled 
to  leave  Kentucky.  He  would  probably  have  preferred  to  go 
South  and  fight  in  the  Confederate  ranks;  but  as  this,  however 
consonant  with  his  inclination,  was  scarcely  compatible  with  his 
sacred  calling  and  advanced  age,  he  went  to  Canada;  but  never  low 
ered  his  colours  or  suffered  his  controversial  batteries  to  be  silenced. 


506  REMINISCENCES  OF 

I  cannot  forbear  especial  mention  of  one  of  these  pious  and 
estimable  men,  not  only  because  in  eloquence  and  in  every  ex 
alted  quality,  he  was  among  the  foremost,  but  also  because  he 
was  the  first  playmate  and  friend  of  my  earliest  boyhood.  I  made 
Thomas  U.  Dudley's  acquaintance  at  Richmond,  Va.,  so  long 
ago  that  the  memory  of  man  runneth  hardly  to  the  contrary; 
that  is  to  say,  it  is  nearly  threescore  and  ten  years  since  we 
were  at  school  together  when  neither  was  quite  five  years 
old.  Neither,  I  think,  made  much  progress  in  academic  study 
at  that  time,  but  we  learned  to  like  each  other  very  much  and 
the  warm  friendship  then  formed  continued  until  his  death. 

As.  bishop  of  the  Episcopal  diocese  of  Kentucky,  he  evinced 
the  same  brave  and  zealous  spirit  he  had  shown  as  a  soldier,  and 
was  no  less  loved  and  regarded  as  gentleman  than  as  divine. 

If  I  were  attempting  to  write  a  history  of  Louisville,  rather 
than  making  only  brief  mention  of  certain  individuals  of  whom 
my  personal  recollections  are  especially  distinct,  I  might  say  a 
great  deal  about  the  merchants,  bankers,  and  leading  business 
men  who  were  prominent  in  all  affairs  when  I  became  a  citizen 
of  the  place,  and  for  years  afterward.  Very  many  of  them  were 
as  well  known  and  held  in  as  high  repute  throughout  the  South 
as  at  home.  Those  best  remembered,  perhaps,  by  the  people 
of  Louisville,  a  re  JamesGuthrie,Virgil  McKnight,H.D.Newcomb, 
James  W.  Henning,  H.  A.  Griswold,  Joshua  F.  Speed,  William 
Garvin,  John  P.  Morton,  Archibald  A.  Gordon,  Samuel  L.  Avery, 
Abram  D.  Hunt,  Grandison  Spratt,  Richard  Knott,  Thomas  L. 
Barrett,  James  S.  Bridgeford,  James  S.  Lithgow,  John  T.  Barbee, 
Nathan  Bloom,  R.  A.  and  John  M.  Robinson,  Wm.  B.  and 
Samuel  S.  Hamilton  and  Albert  Fink. 

They  were  all  men  of  exceptional  intelligence,  business  capacity, 
and  integrity,  and  of  strong,  positive  character,  and  each  left 
his  impress  upon  the  community.  Joshua  F.  Speed  was  probably 
Mr.  Lincoln's  closest  and  most  trusted  personal  friend;  James 
Guthrie's  reputation  was  national;  Albert  Fink's  writings  upon 
railway  economics  have  been  accepted  as  authority  in  Europe 
as  well  as  in  America. 

One  of  the  contemporaries  of  those  I  have  just  named  yet 
lives  to  enjoy  the  esteem  and  affection  of  his  fellow-citizens.  In 
his  eighty-sixth  year,  Col.  Reuben  T.  Durrett  maintains  the 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE\  507 

mental  vigour  of  his  earlier  manhood,  and  still  pursues,  with 
undiminished  interest,  the  studious  and  intelligent  inquiry  which 
has  made  his  contributions  to  the  history  of  the  Ohio  Valley  so 
valuable  and  has  furnished  much  of  the  material  successfully 
and  judiciously  used  by  other  writers.  The  Filson  Club  — so 
named  in  honour  of  John  Filson,  the  first  historian  of  Kentucky 
and  friend  and  companion  of  Boone  —  was  founded  in  1884 
by  Colonel  Durrett,  and  under  his  direction  has  done  excellent 
and  widely  recognized  work. 

If  I  should  fail  to  speak  of  another  club  of  somewhat  like 
kind  —  the  Salmagundi  —  established  in  Louisville  nearly  forty 
years  since  and  still  in  existence,  I  might  justly  be  deemed  un 
grateful  and  inappreciative,  because  of  the  unusual  pleasure  so 
frequently  afforded  me  by  its  sessions  and  its  suppers. 

The  Salmagundi  Club  could  —  and  can  —  be  scarcely  termed 
an  historical  society,  inasmuch  as  its  members  have  always  been 
averse  to  the  constraint  imposed  by  canons  of  accuracy,  even 
although  so  liberally  construed  as  those  of  history  are  sometimes 
asserted  to  be.  It  was  even  hinted  that  in  its  graver  discussions 
more  than  one  disputant  was  accustomed  to  invent  history  in 
such  fashion  and  quantity  as  the  exigencies  of  his  contention  de 
manded.  That  sort  of  thing,  however,  is.  so  common  that 
it  should  not  greatly  impair  the  credit  of  even  a  professedly 
scientific  association,  far  less  of  one  intended  chiefly  for 
amusement. 

Nor  was  it  any  more  entitled  to  be  called  a  literary  club,  for 
the  reason  that  it  permitted  the  same  liberties  to  be  taken  with 
literature.  While  characterized  to  some  extent  by  both  historical 
and  literary  features,  it  was  more  distinctively  social;  and  al 
though  some  special  question  for  discussion  was  always  selected 
for  each  night  that  its  members  assembled,  the  topics  most  fre 
quently  chosen  were  of  current  interest,  and  interpolation, 
therefore,  of  much  local  gossip  was  in  order. 

In  short,  debate  in  the  Salmagundi  has  always  been  conducted 
with  much  the  same  latitude  that  renders  it  so  pertinent  in  the 
Senate  of  the  United  States,  no  one  being  required  to  confine 
his  remarks  strictly  to  the  subject  matter  of  discussion.  It 
can  be  readily  understood  how  much  of  variety  and  occasional 
pungency  can  be  thus  secured. 


508  REMINISCENCES  OF 

Of  course  there  are  a  number  of  other  such  clubs.  Every 
city  I  suppose  has  a  similar  one;  but  I  doubt  if  any  has  mustered 
a  more  congenial  and  entertaining  membership;  and  when  I 
recall  the  names  of  many  —  the  brightest  on  the  roll  —  who  have 
passed  over  the  river,  I  am  comforted  with  the  thought  that 
age  knows  a  saner  pleasure  in  its  memories  than  youth  enjoys 
in  its  aspirations. 

Two  of  these,  Jouett  Menifee  and  Prof.  Jason  W.  Chenault, 
were  especially  esteemed  while  living  and  are  especially  remem 
bered  by  their  surviving  confreres.  The  former  was  the  son  of 
a  Kentuckian,  who,  dying  in  early  manhood,  had  yet  achieved 
success  so  distinguished  as  lawyer  and  politician  that  the  Whigs 
of  Kentucky  looked  to  him  as  the  successor,  in  party  leadership, 
of  Mr.  Clay.  He  was  the  grandson  of  the  eminent  and  gifted 
painter,  Matthew  Jouett.  Inheriting  the  artistic  temperament 
of  his  grandsire,  and  much  of  the  talent,  although  nothing  of  the 
professional  inclinations,  of  his  father,  he  possessed,  in  uncommon 
degree,  those  qualities  which  attract  love  and  confidence  in  pri 
vate  life,  and  had  the  nature  which  seems  to  make  friends  without 
effort  and  never  to  excite  envy  or  enmity. 

Although  never  in  public  life,  Professor  Chenault  was  widely 
known  and  no  one  was  more  highly  esteemed.  He  was  a  man 
of  strong,  although  not  particularly  active  mind,  of  useful  attain 
ments  and  recognized  scholarship,  and  an  exceedingly  enter 
taining  and  instructive  companion.  Earnest,  faithful,  and 
capable,  no  man  in  Kentucky  or  the  South,  perhaps,  did  better 
educational  work. 

Every  man,  I  suppose,  who  contrasts  his  habit  of  thought  in 
age  with  that  which  characterized  him  in  youth,  will  realize 
what  a  change  he  has  undergone  in  his  general  views  of  life. 
The  different  light  in  which  we  regarded  events  when  we  were 
in  their  midst  and  striving  to  influence  them,  from  that  in  which 
we  view  them  now  that  they  are  accomplished,  may  be  likened 
to  the  changed  aspect  in  which,  after  the  sun  has  risen,  a  traveller 
sees  the  landscape  through  which  he  has  made  his  way  by  the 
dimmer  rays  of  the  moon. 

My  own  life  has  been  comparatively  uneventful  —  at  any  rate 
from  the  point  of  view  of  more  ambitious  compatriots — inasmuch 
as  I  have  rarely  held  public  office,  nor,  personally,  been  much 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  509 

in  the  political  "swim."  Nevertheless  I  have  witnessed  many 
events  which  have  appeared  to  me  remarkable  and  which,  if 
not  important,  have  yet  been  significant  of  the  strange  progress, 
the  blended  incertitude  and,  if  I  may  use  such  term,  logic,  of 
human  affairs.  Unlike  the  Psalmist,  I  have  more  than  once  seen 
"the  seed  of  the  righteous,"  if  not  exactly  begging  his  bread, 
at  least  sadly  in  lack  of  it.  But  in  almost  every  such  instance 
there  was  reason  to  believe  that  it  was  because  the  fault  or  inca 
pacity  of  the  son  was  greater  than  the  merit  of  the  father.  While 
never  inclined  to  fatalism,  for  the  reason  that  the  least  intelli 
gence  or  independence  of  spirit  should  require  a  man  to  reject 
a  creed  which  induces  blind  submission  to  events,  rather  than 
constant  opposition  to  what  seems  wrong  and  consistent  struggle 
for  that  which  seems  right,  I  have  learned  to  believe  in  a  Prov 
idence  which,  while  it  may  not  always  direct,  often  overrules 
human  effort  and  shapes  events  to  far  better  effect  than  human 
intelligence  or  human  purpose,  unaided,  can  accomplish.  I 
have  become  convinced  that  there  is  something  which,  in  some 
way,  ever  "worketh  for  righteousness,"  and  that,  when  human 
passion  and  selfishness  have  wrought  their  utmost,  there  inter 
venes  a  power  which  usually  in  unexpected  fashion  furnishes 
a  corrective. 

There  seems  to  be  a  force  latent  in  the  moral  constitution  of 
mankind,  like  that  which,  we  are  told,  exists  in  the  physical 
nature  of  the  individual  man,  that  tends  to  throw  off  disease. 
We  seldom  see  what  we  may  consider  complete  retribution  for 
evil  inflicted  in  individual  cases,  but  we  often  see  it  visited  by 
society  on  classes  of  offenders;  and  while  not  nearly  so  many 
of  the  malefactors  are  disposed  of  as  we  might  wish,  the  evil 
itself  is  often  destroyed. 

Experience  is  proverbially  the  best  school  for  a  certain  class 
of  individuals,  and  my  experience  during  the  latter  years  of  a 
rather  long  life  has  taught  me,  I  trust,  a  certain  practical  phil 
osophy;  enough  to  afford  in  some  degree  the  sort  of  consolation 
one  needs  in  declining  age.  It  has  taught  me,  at  least,  to  believe 
that  the  old  man  who  will  look  back  upon  the  past  with  vision 
as  clear  as  human  passion  will  permit  human  judgment,  can, 
unless  his  life  has  been  clouded  with  more  than  the  common 
share  of  sorrow  arid  misfortune,  see  much  more  that  it  is  pleasant 


5io  REMINISCENCES  OF 

to  remember  than  it  is  necessary  to  regret.  Grief  for  those  he 
has  loved  and  lost  is  his  sorest  trial;  but  time  dulls  the  sting  of 
distant  bereavement,  and  he  learns  to  regard  the  more  recent  as 
inevitable,  and  knows  that  it  can  only  for  a  brief  period  afflict 
him.  The  disappointments  of  life  should  seem  trivial  to  one 
whose  own  life  is  nearly  over,  and  his  hope  remains  for 
those  who  are  to  succeed  him  when  it  is  no  longer  a  per 
sonal  incentive. 

Unless  a  man  has  been  very  unlucky  or  cursed  with  an  ex 
tremely  unhappy  disposition,  he  can  reckon,  among  the  people 
he  has  known,  more  of  those  he  once  esteemed  his  enemies,  but 
with  whom  he  has  been  reconciled,  than  of  former  friends  from 
whom  he  has  become  estranged.  I  have  always  found  the  Chris 
tian  forgiveness  which  requires  us  to  love  those  who  really  despite- 
fully  use  us  exceedingly  rare  in  all  Christian  communities;  but 
the  common-sense  and  good  temper  which  suggest  a  condonation 
of  offence  hastily  offered,  or  injury  not  serious,  perhaps  even 
unintentional,  should  be  expected  of  every  man  of  ordinary 
brain  and  not  abnormal  conceit. 

It  is  extremely  trying  to  be  obliged  to  relinquish  opinions 
long  tenaciously  held  or  surrender  even  a  cherished  preju 
dice,  but  circumstances  sometimes  compel  such  sacrifices. 

Indeed  the  perversity  of  a  majority  may  occasionally  force  us 
to  an  entire  change  of  base  in  order  to  escape  some  incredible 
and  some  unstomachable  heresy.  Nevertheless  it  is  well  to 
bear  in  mind  that  even  those  who  disagree  with  us  may  possibly 
be  right  and,  at  any  rate,  in  the  absence  of  convincing  reasons 
to  the  contrary,  are  entitled  to  think  so. 

It  is  always  a  sad  day  for  the  elderly  citizen  when  he  must 
abandon,  as  no  longer  tenable  or  tolerated,  that  belief  in  his  own 
personal  infallibility  which  the  average  man  at  some  time  en 
tertains,  secretly  perhaps,  but  as  absolutely  as  does  His  Holiness 
Himself;  when  he  realizes  that  he,  also,  has  been  an  object  of 
commiseration  because  of  that  very  self-confidence  he  deplores 
in  others;  but  it  must  come.  If  he  be  wise,  he  may  find  in  this 
change  of  mental  life  a  mental  regeneration  and  even  learn  to 
love  adopted  ideas  and  opinions  almost  as  well  as  he  formerly 
did  his  own. 

The  longer  a  man  lives,  the  more  thoroughly  he  becomes  con- 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE  511 

vinced  that  the  great  majority  of  his  fellow-men  would  prefer 
to  do  what  is  right  although  —  paradoxical  as  it  may  sound  — 
they  are  not  particularly  concerned  whether  or  not  they  think 
what  is  right;  and  a  great  deal  of  noisy  utterance  of  very  fantastic 
theory  may  be  given  slight  contradiction,  so  long  as  it  finds  no 
expression  in  dangerous  conduct. 

But  the  hardest  lesson  that  age  has  to  learn  is  to  acknowledge, 
with  becoming  modesty,  the  superiority  of  all  that  is  modern; 
to  abandon  querulous  and  unavailing  protest,  and  listen  in  seemly 
deference  to  the  inspired  dicta  of  youth.  It  is  a  severe  strain 
on  the  feeble  senile  comprehension,  but  sooner  or  later  we  must 
realize  that  experience,  wheresoever  gathered  and  however 
valuable,  per  se,  to  the  septuagenarian  who  has  it,  possesses  no 
negotiable  quality  or  exchangeable  value,  and  will  not  pass 
current  translated  into  advice  or  admonition. 

All  things  have  moved  so  rapidly  and  so  far  in  the  last  half 
century  that  experience  of  the  oracular  brand  seems  to  have  been 
left  out  of  sight.  Brief  time  is  required  to  render  any  idea,  in  a 
measure,  obsolete.  The  first  battle  of  the  Civil  War  is  farther 
removed  from  us  by  lapse  of  time  than  is  Waterloo  from  that 
battle;  yet  the  men  of  the  Civil  War  and  the  men  who  fought  at 
Waterloo  were,  probably,  more  like  in  thought  and  sentiment 
to  those  who  dwelt  in  medieval  Europe  than  to  the  men  of 
this  generation. 

The  world  rushes  along  the  path  of  progress  with  greater 
velocity  than  the  earth  whirls  in  its  annual  orbit,  and  innova 
tions  come  quicker  than  the  years.  The  invention  which  sur 
prised  us  yesterday  seems  simple  compared  with  the  one  which  ' 
startles  us  to-day.  The  most  elaborate  scientific  work,  written 
a  year  ago,  is  regarded  as  stale  and  of  slight  authority  if  it  con 
flicts  with  the  latest  magazine  article  on  the  same  subject;  and 
that  will,  in  turn,  be  superseded  by  another  to  appear  next  month. 

Why  then  should  youth  listen  to  age?  How  can  the  ancients 
instruct  the  moderns?  Especially  when  modern  information  is 
supplemented  by  modern  intuition.  How  can  one  who  grew  to 
manhood  at  a  time  when  people  yet  rode  to  church  on  horseback, 
possibly  hope  to  teach  the  ethereal  intelligence  which  soars  seven 
thousand  feet  nearer  to  Heaven  in  an  aeroplane? 

No !     Let  age  gracefully  recognize  its  limitations  and  try  to  be 


GENERAL  BASIL  W.  DUKE 

happy.  Content  with  the  past  and  its  recollections,  and  with  no 
pretense  that  we  can  enlighten  our  juniors,  we  will  admit  as 
candidly,  if  as  sadly,  as  did  the  Knight  of  La  Mancha  when  cured 
of  his  illusions,  that,  "The  birds  of  this  year  are  not  found  in 
last  year's  nests. " 


THE  COUNTRY  LIFE  FRESH,  GABDEN  CITY,  N.  T. 


THIS  BOOK  IS  DUE  ON  THE  LAST  DATE 
STAMPED  BELOW 

RENEWED  BOOKS  ARE  SUBJECT  TO  IMMEDIATE 
RECALL 


LIBRARY,  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA,  DAVIS 

Book  Slip-50m-8,'63(D9954s4)458 


N9   334356 

E470 

Duke,  B.W.  D89 

Reminiscences. 


LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF   CALIFORNIA 
DAVIS 


